Auribus Teneo Lupum
by Shigure-san
Summary: FenrirxHarry - Watching Potter refuse to break under Voldemort's torture, Greyback senses that he is far too valuable to his species to allow to die. Demanding possession of him, he takes the boy as his own. Unfortunately, the boy refuses to bend or break under him either…
1. A Change of Shackles

**Auribus Teneo Lupum**

**Author:** Shigure-san  
**Rating:** 18+ (Suitable for Mature Readers Only)  
**Pairings:** Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter  
**Warnings:** (This is the censored version. For the version with full adult erotic scenes please follow one of the links on my profile) Abuse, Anal, Angst, Bad Language, Blood, HJ, Male Homosexual relationships, Slash, Oral, Rim, Violence, Graphic Lemon/Lime (scenes of a sexual nature), Non-Con (Rape), Bestiality, Torture (not in main pairing), MPREG, Male Lactation.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own ANY trademarks of 'Harry Potter'. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. and others who aren't me. I merely own this story which I make no money from.

**Summary: **Watching Potter refuse to break under Voldemort's torture, Greyback senses that he is far too valuable to his species to allow to die. Demanding possession of him, he takes the boy as his own. Unfortunately, the boy refuses to bend or break under him either…

**Author's note: **Everything in this story is cannon up until the point where the snatchers catch Harry and co. and take them to Malfoy Manor. Instead at this point everyone else escapes and only Harry is caught – also note that Greyback was not one of the people that caught them. That is where this story picks up from. Also, Fenrir is a 'born' werewolf, not turned as JKR and cannon explain in various locations. (His history is a tweaked version of what JKR has revealed over time and you will find it out in later chapters).

This story will be about 25-28 LONG chapters in length - I already have 22 chapters pre-written and writing the rest as we speak. Will be updated weekly. Please enjoy and review if you have a moment to spare to tell me what you think.

_Auribus Teneo Lupum – __Latin, for 'I have the wolf by the ears' which is a common ancient proverb meaning where someone is in a dangerous situation where both holding on and letting go could be deadly. Similar to our modern day "take the tiger by the tail" or "bull by the horns"._

* * *

.: Chapter One :.

A Change of Shackles

The darkness of their hopeless world swirled around them, its spiteful bleakness almost audible in their joint silence. The wizarding world's last hope sat around the long worn table in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Their hands were folded in front of them, their eyes fixed on the gnarls and scrapes in the aged wood. None of them wanted to put voice to what they were all feeling through their very cores.

Without Harry, they were doomed.

There were more of the resistance (the Order of the Phoenix) beyond this room of course, but those here were the ones heading the final fleet of light. Ron and Hermione had felt Harry ripped away from them by the snatchers. They had felt his fingers torn from them just as the crack of apparition took them to safety and they had had no choice but to seek help now. Even if Harry wasn't their best friend and his life hadn't been their personal priority, there was no point in destroying horcruxes if the only person that could destroy Voldemort was killed, tortured into madness or worse…

Hermione bit her lip, fighting back the tears from her eyes before looking around at those seated at the table. The table that they had once all gathered around for a happy Christmas meal. She and Ron were joined by Remus Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley, McGonagall, and a large handful of Weasleys including Molly, Arthur, the twins, Charlie, Bill and Fleur – who was almost as pregnant as Tonks.

With a deep breath in, Hermione managed to find her words. "We will just have to get Harry back, there is no other option." Silence followed and then…

"He Who Must Not Be Named has a location as impenetrable and unplottable as this building – even more secure, perhaps. We have no idea where it is," Kingsley began rationally, hastening to continue when he saw arguments brewing on the tongues of their younger members. "I want to save Harry as well, I don't dare to think what they may be doing to him…"

"Harry is the one bloody thing _He's_ always wanted," Fred hissed, "we know exactly what he's doing, humiliating him, degrading him, driving him insane with pain and torment beyond…_anything_."

"And he knows that Harry is the wizarding world's last hope, he's sure to…publicise this somehow," George added with a repulsed shudder. "There's no way he'll keep this to himself. He'll take pleasure in using that method to take Harry's pride from him–"

"And the hope from the rest of us useless pillocks," Ron murmured self-loathingly, the first words he had spoken since he and Hermione had landed on the cold hard ground after apparating and realised Harry wasn't with them. Hermione placed her hand on his on the table top.

Another agonising silence drifted across the dim room briefly.

"So vat do ve do zen, if storming ze castle is out of ze question?" Fleur asked tentatively, an elegant had resting on her slight bump. Bill took her hand gently.

"The way I see it is there is only one way into Voldemort's stronghold, and that is to be captured ourselves," Remus began, looking at each of them solemnly in turn, as if preparing them for what he was about to say. "And once we are in there, we won't be getting back out until the He is dead. As much as I…"

The werewolf grit his teeth, his hands shaking where they curled into fists on top of the table. Tonks moved to touch his arm reassuringly, but it seemed nothing could comfort him. "Even though Harry is the world to me, we have to face the fact that the only way we can rescue him successfully is to destroy the remaining horcruxes and then get captured ourselves. Then when _He_ is vulnerable we must help Harry–"

"You mean leave Harry there?!" Ron snarled leaping to his feet along with a few others at the table.

"You've got to be bloody joking!" Fred added.

"Sirius would've died before leaving Harry there," George began and Remus leapt to his feet too, his hands crashing down furiously on the wooden table so hard it shuddered on the stone floor.

"And Sirius would have _died_ and Harry with him, because of his recklessness!" Remus thundered, his usually calm, quiet voice tearing a little – with worry for Harry. "Do not suggest I care for Harry any less than any of you. I am a great deal older than you. I've lost my two best friends in the world to this mad man's war and I have seen from experience that thinking with my head is the only way to ensure Harry gets out of this alive!"

"Well said, Lupin," a sardonic, low voice interrupted the row.

Everyone in the room stopped and whirled where they stood or sat to face the door that they had never heard open, where none other than Severus Snape stood, watching them all stoically. Some of them stood there stunned while others leapt for their wands. Snape merely held up a hand as if that had the power to fend off every curse that they had been about to send his way.

"It might behove you to listen for once in your lives, particularly when your enemy has the upper hand on you. The Dark Lord has Potter, I am pivotal to his rescue," Snape said simply, gesturing with his hands to show he was unarmed – visibly at least. He stepped forward slowly but McGonagall's wand raised a little more fervently in her shaking hand.

"That's far enough Severus," she bit out. "Just what do you hope to achieve, _you_ Albus' murderer striding straight into our midst?"

"How did you get here anyway?" Charlie demanded with a sneer.

Snape gave that familiar grimace of a smirk. But it was without amusement and tainted with bitterness. "All will become clear once I divulge to you Albus' master plan that he revealed to none but myself. I give you permission to test my honesty with Veritaserum of course," he added hastily when some of them were about to argue. "I will answer your question first, however, by telling you that as part of this plan, Albus ensured my invitation to this safe house would remain in the event I might need to abandon our first plan to confront you all – on the strict and only event that Harry was lost somehow, someway. Moody's _tricks _were never enough to keep me out, not against Albus' magic. All bets are off now, even Albus suspected this may happen, though he hoped against it with his dying breath…"

"Breath that you stole!" Molly Weasley screeched.

Snape only gave a solemn nod. "That I cannot deny, only explain the reason behind a crime that can never be justified. I will explain that and more, but you must listen to me–"

"And why?" Hermione demanded, her voice terse and strong, unwavering in the face of her once professor. "Why should we give you the chance after all you have done? You who loathed Harry most?"

The potions master's face twisted with an unreadable expression before slowly, his thin lips moved with the reply of, "because the only way to save Potter and end this war is to work together, and whether you believe it or not _both _of those things are my priorities right now. That and finishing the Dark Lord once and for all…"

They all stared at each other, wands still poised in their hands as an all too familiar silence fell. None of them knew what to do.

* * *

White-hot agony like nothing he had ever felt before lanced his every muscle and bone. The cavernous room he had been hauled into (what seemed like days ago now) was blindingly bright. So bright it hurt his eyes even though they were lidded with exhaustion. And it was cold, icy cold so that every particle of air felt like a stabbing needle in his every pore. It felt like an eternity had passed since they had strung him up here, his wrist bound above him with invisible bonds and his body hanging limply from them, forcing him to balance awkwardly on his knees the balls of his feet.

Hermione and Ron had escaped the snatchers, that was what mattered. They had escaped this. They were safe now that Voldemort had what he had always wanted – him. Bound, humiliated and in pain, as naked as the day he was born in front of a hall full of death eaters and their 'Dark Lord'. _Just let it end, _he thought longingly, over and over again, shoving that desperation for the release of death to the forefront of his mind so that Voldemort could not even glimpse the thoughts that laid behind it.

Most of the horcruxes were gone and Ron and Hermione were surely close to destroying the last two. Voldemort evidently hadn't realised the others were gone yet and Harry was determined it would stay that way, he would fight for it with his dying breath.

Exhaustion rippled through his bones and he could not help but groan as continuous spasms of anguish ripped up his arms, legs and spine from holding this position for far too long. He wobbled unsteadily, his head lolling to the side. He was so tired. But passing out, relaxing into his bonds or surrendering the tension his muscles for even a moment was out of the question.

The bonds that held him painfully in place were laced tightly around his flesh. They were woven around his body, starting from his wrists and downward, down around his arms, throat, chest, his stomach and legs until they tied off at his ankles. The thin, silvery barbed-wire styled constriction bit spitefully into him whenever he so much as shifted to try and alleviate the fiery pain the position imbued his limbs.

A grunt left his lips as his body went into spasms in release of the agony and the wire sliced into him as if he were butter, tearing bloody ribbons that oozed and wept blood down his body in thick streams. A dark cackle sounded from ahead of him, where he knew without even opening his eyes that Voldemort was sitting on a throne-like chair, surveying him with rapt attention. As tempting as the idea of death was in face of this torment, his stubbornness and pride would not allow him to simply topple over so that the wires could slice him to pieces – would not allow Voldemort to win.

Another high-pitched laugh from ahead of him told him that Voldemort had heard those thoughts. He could not stop Voldemort from getting into his head, but he had been successful so far at shoving the less precious thoughts forwards to hide what he didn't want the bastard to see. "You are such a precious boy, Harry," Voldemort breathed in mock-comfort. "But if exhaustion would permit those eyes of yours to open you would see a room full of death eaters around me, each with their own torment in mind for you. You will not win, this is only the beginning."

Harry parted his lips, swallowing hard in an attempt to moisten his dry throat. "S'not…in me to…give up," he managed out, his voice hoarse and shaky with blood-loss, exhaustion and pain – each of them dragging him ferociously towards unconsciousness. "Or bend…for the likes of _you_!"

"Oh, but dear Harry, you don't seem to realise – this is about power, everything is and those with power can _make_ you bend for them," Voldemort hissed and with a flick of his wrist the wires wrapped around Harry tightened. They tugged him forward hard_, _folding him flat at the waist so that his nose touched the ground and he was forced into a bow at Voldemort's feet. The wire sliced deeper, gouging great grooves into him. He swore he felt them meet bone in places, felt a rush of blood soaking him and he could not help himself. He screamed.

"Oh, yes!" Voldemort hissed with almost orgasmic glee. "I can make you scream boy and bleed and cry for your dead mother but you will not die, not yet. Not until the entire world has seen you quiver and squeal at my feet. Not until they realise that not even their golden boy can defeat Lord Voldemort." The wire tightened again, forcing Harry's head up a fraction lest it slice into his throat and Harry stared up at those blood red eyes through the tousled, obsidian curtain of his fringe. He glared even as he continued to scream until his throat ached.

"That's it, sing for me, little boy. Bella has managed to acquire some _Prophet_ reporters to record your defeat for the public," the Dark Lord chuckled. Voldemort's leg shifted, a bare, wretched foot hovered under his nose – the very one that had sullied Cedric's body before he was even cold. "Show your contrition for the world to see and I may give you mercy." He pressed hard at Harry's cheek with his foot and stopped tugging on the bonds to cease Harry's cries. Harry was left gasping for breath, giving dry sobs that he struggled with all his might to bite back. That foot was still pressing against his cheek impatiently. He knew what Voldemort wanted in return for 'mercy', what he had called the _Prophet_ minions here to witness and show to the world…

Across the hall at the back of the circle of death eaters and heads and shoulders above them all, the owner of two icy-blue eyes watched on. From the second the golden boy's blood had oozed from that honey-tinted flesh, he had been frozen in place, his eyes fixed on the boy the Dark Lord was so gleefully tormenting. He hadn't noticed it before; it was so subtle that even when that blood had been spilt he had only just picked it up above the stench of wizards gathered here in the hall of Malfoy Manor. The Potter boy was a very special one indeed.

A smirk touched Greyback's face as Potter used all his strength to snarl and spit at the offensive foot. Voldemort roared with fury, seizing Harry's throat and holding him up from the ground so that their faces were inches apart. Harry cried out again as the blood-stained bonds sliced deeper and deeper into him. Greyback swore he would be cut to pieces any moment now, but the boy sank his teeth into his lip to silence his screams as he glared back into those crimson eyes.

"You would have us believe you do not fear death or pain," Voldemort hissed, "But I know better." With his other hand he pressed his wand into Harry's throat, plucking the wire digging in there with the tip just to draw a pained gasp from Harry. Harry winced. The wand pressed harder into his already abused flesh. "I'll cut away everything you are, piece by piece until you crumble – and _you will_. What shall be first?" His grip on Harry's throat tightened.

"Your nose? An ear? Perhaps I'll start with your fingers…" He trailed his wand worryingly downward, hesitating over a nipple that was flecked with blood already from the lacerations above. "One of these? Or perhaps…lower…" Harry's flaccid penis was just hanging there humiliatingly between his legs for all to see, vulnerable to any torture. He forced himself not to even blink.

"Well my loyal followers?" Voldemort offered to those gathered in the large circle. "What shall we do with the wizarding world's chosen one?"

The hall erupted into sound, lewd and repulsive suggestions were called out, derisive, spiteful laughter filling the air. Harry swore he was choking on it, suffocating on it all and he closed his eyes tight, preparing for any and all of the tortures about to befall him. But suddenly, a resounding, rasping bark of a voice thundered above them all and sent the grand room plunging into silence. "Give him to me," the vaguely familiar voice demanded.

Voldemort dropped the boy unceremoniously onto the floor, a snarling gasp of pain punctuating the action and the Dark Lord stepped over his captive casually, as if he weren't even there. The circle of death eaters parted as their lord approached, allowing him to see where Fenrir was propped against the wall, his bulky arms folded over his tight, muscled chest. Fenrir surveyed the man casually as he approached with unconcerned azure eyes. Voldemort's wand was hanging limply in those long pallid hands and he gave Fenrir a smile as he stopped a few feet from him.

"Fenrir Greyback, an ally that has more than earned my respect," he said, quite convincingly, as if he trusted him with his life. A feigned display that Fenrir could smell on the very air, but he cared not. He had aligned himself with Voldemort purely because Voldemort had offered lands and dominion over the wizards that had hunted him and his kind for all these years. He was not the man's lacky, what he _was_ was a great asset, perhaps one of the few things that were tipping the scales of this war in Voldemort's favour – and the man knew it.

"My friend, what would you do with the Potter boy?" the Dark Lord asked with a peculiar lilt to his voice. "What can possibly interest you? Why, he doesn't even have any meat on his scrawny, underdeveloped frame to tempt your appetite for young flesh."

Fenrir did not even blink at this. His tendency to enjoy tumbles with teenage boys and girls and the way he stole young from their inadequate human parents to turn them, to take them for his own pack now and again had spurred rumours that he liked to devour human children. He may even have let a comment or two slip to aid the amusing rumours. He was perfectly happy with that reputation; it let everyone know what he was about before they even met him. He was powerful, merciless and inhuman. He snorted and turned his head slightly to look upon the fallen, naked boy over Voldemort's shoulder. He was still, Fenrir noticed, not wasting energy struggling and losing more blood, but waiting for a chance…

He was a born fighter, far superior to the wizards gathered in the circle right now that were fidgeting uncomfortably and positively stinking of fear. Oh, the boy smelled of fear too and pain but he was baring his teeth against it, refusing to surrender. He liked that. "Werewolves can't bear young," Fenrir said simply after a moment of inhaling the scent of the boy's defiance. "The mother's moon cycle forces her to change once a month and so kills the child with all the shifting innards. That's known. That's why we steal human children and turn them for ourselves. But witches and wizards can bear our young for us if they have the recessive lycanthrope gene.

"They are immune to the venom in our fangs and claws and the immunity in their veins means that we can breed them and never accidentally turn them into one of us. There aren't many that carry the gene left after all those raids the Ministry executed on our kind when they first came into power, but my mother was one. He brought me into the world a pure-blooded wolf more in tune with my senses, more powerful and faster than a turned werewolf. And that boy is one," he finished, indicating the boy laying in a pool of his own blood on the floor.

There was silence and then from the broken circle a death eater spoke. Macnair, Fenrir thought his name was. "Such nonsense. Fairytales werewolves tell their young. There is no being alive that can successively bear werewolf young, the beast would tear them apart from the inside out–"

"Our young do not have fangs or claws in their transformed state for some time. They don't even go through the change until they see their twelfth moon – beyond the womb," Fenrir corrected gruffly, his eyes glowing as they turned on the circle challengingly before looking back to Voldemort. "The boy carries the recessive gene, I want him, My Lord and if I am wrong, then my venom will turn him as soon as I so much as nick him. And you can have him back and watch him tear himself apart with confusion and starvation at the full moon."

Those crimson eyes surveyed him carefully, as if considering his words and calculating his own response with considerable care. _Wisely so,_ Fenrir thought as he stared back, unyielding, sensing the Potter boy's consciousness waning. He was losing a lot of blood, he realised distractedly.

"I cannot allow the other side to get him back," Voldemort said after a moment. "He is valuable bait and ransom. His capture has crushed any resistance they have held so far, and what is more the brat has a tendency to cause havoc when left to his own devices. I regret that I cannot give him to you, Fenrir."

Greyback raised a brow. "But as I understand it, your chief concern is that he not be allowed to escape, trust me, not even the golden boy can outrun me, especially not now I have discovered how infinitely valuable he is to me. He will not be escaping from me and his little friends won't even know I have him. You want this boy held but you don't want him to cause trouble? Believe me, after a moon with me he won't run, he won't even be able to leave my side. The perfect prisoner." He watched Voldemort calculate all he had said carefully, his fingers twisting around his wand thoughtfully as he contemplated them.

Across the hall, the boy writhed in anguish as he struggled onto his knees, gasping for breath, his hair hanging over his eyes. He'd been here for nearly three weeks now and hadn't broken, it was admirable, that kind of foolhardy courage and pride. Exactly what he had dreamed of conquering in his bed. Without looking away from him, he spoke to Voldemort once more. This was getting tedious – he would have the boy regardless and if these tactics to avoid a troublesome skirmish failed and Voldemort still refused…

"He is far too stubborn and proud to break under this kind of torture," Fenrir continued, "Give him to me, my Lord, let me claim him and you will see him conquered and the last of the other side's resolve will crumble."

Voldemort turned to look at the boy now. The Dark Lord was every bit as proud as the boy, Fenrir thought and that allowed the Dark Lord to understand fully how unlikely it was that the boy would break under pain. Seeing Voldemort's mind at work Fenrir added, "You know what power I wield, my Lord. You know that any werewolf pack in this country will move at my command, I have made this power yours by allying with you. I think that earns me privilege enough to claim what is mine by nature without a fight?"

He had never spoken so formally nor so much to any wizard. It would be simpler if he could take the boy without a struggle and not risk him getting even more injured – he needed him healthy, after all. But this was the last of his chivalry. The Potter boy was his whether Voldemort _permitted_ it or not.

"Oh, you have earned it well and will do so countless times in the years ahead, no doubt," Voldemort said with snake-like softness and cunning. He was not a coward, this wizard but he still knew better than to wrong him. Fenrir was sure that if any other person had asked for the boy, he would have refused outright and possibly punished the asker for their sheer audacity.

"If the boy is as you say, yours there is simply no way I can refuse." Voldemort's voice was filled with feigned politeness and camaraderie. It made Fenrir's skin itch. He remained still, however. Even when Voldemort glided back towards Potter and pulled him up by his throat with a hiss of, _"Relashio!"_

The bonds fell away and Potter was left hanging limply off the ground, choking and spluttering but too weak with the loss of blood to raise his arms to fight. His eyes were open still, however, staring unyieldingly into Voldemort's with unconcealed rebellion and hatred. "I think you can understand my desire for reassurance, however. I know that you will not mind swearing on this brat's blood that you will not allow him to escape and that in a few months time you will bring him to me – conquered. You will have him kneel before me – perhaps with your whelp in his belly."

The man was clever. To swear on the boy's blood would mean if Fenrir tried to keep him for himself and go back on their deal, the boy would die anyway – Voldemort would not risk the enemy getting their hero back for anyone.

Fenrir wondered if the boy had even heard the exchange and watched the crimson rivulets dribble down that pale skin. The boy needed attention before he died from blood-loss. It was a tribute to his inner magic and strength that he had not keeled over already. "And once he has kneeled before you, I will take him away again and do with him as I please," Fenrir said, making sure that was clear. "I am going to claim him as mine, mate him. I think you know what that means to a werewolf."

Voldemort gave a slow, twisted smile. "Yes, unfortunately for dear Harry, _life_. As long as you do not let him escape and swear it now, you can do what you want with him." He paused and then dragged his wand through the deepest cut across Harry's chest, twisting the tip in the wound until Harry gasped. "So will you swear it?" he asked casually.

Exhausted with this display, Fenrir stalked over to him, ignoring the flinches from the circle gathered around them and bringing a single claw to his boy's wound where Voldemort's wand was biting into the flesh cruelly. "On his life I swear," he growled out, having absolutely no intention of letting this boy's life end any time soon. He was a find indeed, an asset to his pack, reputation and power. Voldemort need not have concerned himself with Potter's escape, Fenrir had no intentions of letting him go. "I will take him now."

There was a moment when Voldemort's fingers dug deeper into the boy's throat, as if he would not release him, but those crimson eyes met Fenrir's and at last, he let go. Fenrir caught the boy's limp body before he hit the ground and pulled the bloody form to his chest with one burly arm under the boy's knees and the other behind his back. He was ice cold and shaking – barely conscious but definitely still there. His head was hanging limply on his shoulders like that of a broken puppet.

He'd managed to win him without an all-out war with the Dark Lord, he was Fenrir's priority now. _And the only person that will spill any of that precious blood is me_, he thought. "Thank you, my Lord," he forced out, managing to hold back a sneer. No one was _his _Lord. "I will see to him and then begin the journey back to my pack–"

"Someone can heal the boy and apparate you both back to your territory, Fenrir," Voldemort offered with false chivalry. Fenrir struggled not to sneer again and shook his head. Just a few more moments of politeness to get out of here with his prize not suffering any further harm. Just a few more minutes of resisting the temptation of ripping the Dark Lord's head off…

"I like to do things the werewolf way. I will await your next summons," he said, before heading towards the door. The thought of letting their repulsive magic near him or carry him even for a second made his skin crawl. As he left the circle, he snapped at the pale blond boy who looked as if he wanted to hide himself as much as possible, "You, this is your house. Show me to a washroom where I can clean the boy." The Malfoy brat looked up to his father, who avoided his eye, leaving him to move forwards and frantically lead the way out of the cavernous room.

After a few minutes of following the boy down a long, dimly lit hallway lined with tapestries and robust decor in slytherin's colours, Fenrir barked, "I hope you're grateful that I gave you an excuse to get out of there boy – you looked like you might faint if the Potter boy spilled anymore blood."

Malfoy swallowed hard and risked a glance up at the unmoving cargo in Fenrir's arms as the werewolf fell into stride beside him. Fenrir knew what the boy was thinking without him saying a word. Potter was as Voldemort had said, a beacon of hope in this war and seeing him fall had no doubt quashed what little hope for an end the Malfoy brat had possessed.

"Not used to seeing Potter lose, that's all," Malfoy murmured, trying to sound unaffected, indifferent and failing. He kept his eyes ahead as he added quietly, "He has an irritating habit of triumphing over whatever he faces. He always wins everything, including peoples' adoration."

Fenrir chuckled, following the blond into a room off the hall that proved to be a large lavishly fitted washroom with gleaming black marble from floor to ceiling and gold fittings. Extravagance to every extreme, he expected no less from a family like the Malfoys.

"He'll have to get used to someone else coming out on top from now on," Fenrir snorted, approaching the large sunken bath. He only just refrained from leaping back in surprise when a dozen ornate gold taps burst into life, rapidly filling the tub with smooth, foaming water that smelled reassuringly of tea tree oil and had a healing glimmer to it. That would help him to tend to his boy.

The other boy, meanwhile, was still standing there, staring at the limp body in his arms, the still semi-conscious Potter. "Make yourself useful and fetch me his clothes," he barked at the Malfoy-child, shrugging out of his cloak and his low-riding trousers whilst still holding his boy to is chest awkwardly. He was so cold. He didn't want to lay him on the cold marble floor.

Malfoy stood there for a moment as if he hadn't heard him before turning and vanishing out the door, which closed silently behind him. Fenrir grumbled at his peculiarity and stepped down into the tub with his barely conscious boy in his arms. It felt odd, being so careful, holding something so fragile.

The warm water sloshed against his chest, the flow from the taps ceasing as he laid that slender, lightly muscled body back so that it was floating on the water with the aid of Fenrir's broad arms supporting his back and head above the surface. The boy gave a soft, unintelligible groan as the soothing water swept over him, a sound caught between relief and pain.

Fenrir gave a soothing, reverberating growl and bowed his head to the boy's chest, lapping at the deep lacerations slowly, tentatively. The boy groaned in half-pain again, still not aware of his surroundings and when Fenrir lifted his head he was pleased to see that his saliva (as predicted) had healed the wounds on the boy's torso so that the once spiteful gashes had reverted to mere pinkish coloured blemishes on that honey-hued skin.

Those marks would be gone by morning, thanks to the healing properties of his spittle but Fenrir knew the boy would be far from grateful. He smirked at that and bowed his head again, awkwardly holding Potter above the water to tend to the rest of his wounds.

At last when that tight, taut flesh was healed except for the bloody mars across that slender throat, Fenrir pulled the boy to his body so that he could feel that chest against his own and leant that dark head back gently, massaging the base of the boy's skull while his mouth eased away the last of the bleeding gashes. This was part of the ritual courting of a mating partner. If either partner was wounded, this was the only way they should be healed, it was how it was done, it brought them closer to the time when they could complete their union – it furthered their connection.

Potter was breathing softly, as if in light sleep when Fenrir lifted his mouth that final time and though he saw that brow still furrowed as before, Fenrir could sense that he was out of danger now. _Still weak but more than ready._ He growled softly again, sniffing at the hollow of the boy's chest, grazing the area with his teeth in approval; satisfied that the water had cleaned them both. He scored a path up over that neck, taunting the boy's adam's apple gently with a canine before settling his mouth on the juncture of that shoulder.

Their next destination was his territory of course, but he was not stupid enough to risk dragging a prize as valuable as the boy around with him unmarked. He would draw attention to himself just by being at Fenrir's side, and of course, once Fenrir bit him (he would not leave it to chance that someone else might taste that flesh first), his body would become aware of its buried werewolf instincts. It would begin to prepare itself for conception, for its first heat – would give out the scent of being ready and fertile. He would ensure the world would know he was claimed before he took so much as a step more.

With another reassuring growl that came to him on instinct more than anything else, he bathed that soft juncture between shoulder and throat with his tongue, anesthetising the flesh for what was to come. Below him, he felt the boy's skin growing hot, flushing beautifully and not only because of the warm bath water. He heard his boy give the smallest of confused groans and sucked firmly on the damp area of flesh before sinking his fangs in. It wasn't a deep bite, just enough to mark and he lapped at the place where he'd pierced his intended, quickly healing it before the blood even had chance to flow. But this mark would not vanish entirely.

Lifting his head he was pleased to see a purplish-red bruise forming that would eventually fade into a purple-opalescent scar – Fenrir's claiming mark. _And it'll become a mating mark when he bites me in return and completes our union, _he thought with a grin of the times that lay ahead. His instincts thrummed excitedly. He hadn't bedded one so young and ripe for so long…

As luck would have it, the Malfoy brat returned the second Fenrir was out of the bath, towelling his boy down. The blond just stood there watching him (or Potter, more accurately) holding out a pair of black cotton trousers and a pale green shirt. "It's all I have that will fit him, he's always been shorter than most of us at school," he murmured, jumping slightly when Fenrir snatched the garments from him, dressing the still limp body as quickly as possible to give the Malfoy-brat as little time to stare at his boy as he could.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you fancy him, the way you seem to know so much about him – the way you _watch him._ Hardly the kind of obsessive compulsion I would expect of an alleged enemy," Fenrir accused sharply. At this Malfoy only looked away.

"Careful. People have a nasty habit of falling in love with Potter – of feeling they need to make silly mistakes and sacrifices because of him-"

"Just who do you think you're talking to, boy?" Fenrir snarled warningly. "Don't presume to warn me about a thing. I am a pure-blooded werewolf – and an alpha at that! I'm not vulnerable to mortal feelings, much less to the influence of a boy that is barely a man." He wrapped his fur cloak around Potter's body then and tugged on his own trousers, heading for the door with the _Chosen One_ in his arms again. The suggestion that anyone, even his soon to be mate could control him sent a shiver of fury through his bones. No one controlled him, even his service to the Dark Lord was only at his whim.

"Whatever rebellious nature has ruled him before, he will learn to respect and obey me. In the end he'll be a docile little creature just like you," Fenrir taunted him, smirking when he saw the blond glance away awkwardly. "Oh, you'd make a good werewolf's bitch," he goaded him, revelling in the scandalised look on that pale, pointed face. "You like the idea of that, don't you? A werewolf's pallet would be better than being here, under the Dark Lord's thumb, eh?" He bared his long, strong white teeth in a derisive grin. He'd forgotten how delicious it was to tease young wizards like these.

The blond ran.

* * *

Thick waves of unbearable, throbbing agony were what greeted Harry's senses first as he awoke. He hadn't even opened his eyes but already his body ached as if recovering from being pounded by the meaty, unforgiving fists of giants. It made him groan aloud, his dry throat rasping slightly with the sound. And yet the spiteful, blinding sharp pain was gone. As if the lacerating wire-like bonds had never been.

With another groan, Harry forced his limbs to stretch slightly and felt each of his fingers and toes, both legs and arms still fully in tact. In tact and no longer strung up like a puppet's limbs. When at last he opened his eyes, he was surprised to not only find his glasses on his face, but also to see the great expanse of rich wooden beams above and inhale the smell of warm dry straw. A barn?

"Awake at last I see," a low, gruff voice said. His eyes widened. He knew that voice. His head snapped to the side, his neck creaking in negation at the fast movement. He was in a barn alright. Rays of pale light streamed through the cracks in the wood and the open doors he was laid near. He was on a bed of straw with a cloak of fur cast over him like a blanket. Just beyond the threshold, out of reach of the flammable hay a fire was burning with the mouth-watering smell of food drifting from the puffs of smoke. And there kneeling by the fire, watching him with shadowed blue eyes was Fenrir Greyback.

Harry bolted upright where he lay. A hiss of pain broke through his clenched teeth. Oh yes, his wounds had miraculously healed, but his body was still recovering from his ordeal. How long had he been in Voldemort's grasp? The weak trembling in his limbs and unbearable hunger pangs in his belly told him a long time.

"Fenrir Greyback," he breathed, staring at the werewolf in horror. How had he got here? Why was he Greyback's prisoner now? The last he had remembered Voldemort had threatened to cut off his fingers, toes, his ears, his cock and now…

"Well done boy," Greyback smirked, turning his attention back to the food cooking in the pan. Harry's stomach rumbled. This was almost worse torture than the _Cruciatus_. He was so hungry, more than he had ever been at Privet Drive. Greyback didn't say anything to his rumbling innards, however.

"Where am I?" he demanded, trying to clear the hoarse exhaustion from his voice. "Where's…_He_?" he would have to remember that name was taboo. "What the hell do you–?"

"Intend to do with you?" Fenrir cut across him, his smirk widening. "Whatever I want. I wondered how much you'd remember when you woke up at last. It's less than I'd thought."

Harry stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. Then he remembered. "You asked _Him_ to give me to you," he said, watching those eyes smoulder with a dark, heated emotion he had never seen before and couldn't indentify. "And he said _yes_?!"

"I didn't ask him, boy, I _told him_," Greyback replied gruffly, "The asking was a mere courtesy, I would have had you, permission or not. You're mine." He punctuated his words by piercing the food in the pan over the fire with a long-pronged fork and shifted the sausages, bacon and two eggs over onto the plate that lay waiting near his feet. He must've been able to feel Harry watching that food, Harry thought. The smell of food had lulled his brain into sleepy longing but it was only a few moments later that he realised what the wolf had just said.

"Yours?" he demanded heatedly.

Those teeth were still exposed in a grin as the wolf picked up the plate and stood slowly. Harry hadn't realised just how huge the werewolf was before now. He was tall, head and shoulders above him and the broad muscles of his suntanned arms and chest were clearly visible as he stood there with only loose, grey trousers on that were hanging off his hips.

Harry swallowed nervously despite himself. He wasn't a coward, he wasn't afraid but he'd have to be a fool not to realise how intimidating Greyback was. He could rip his throat out with a single movement.

"Mine," Greyback confirmed coming to stand over him, his icy eyes locked on his with ravenous heat. Harry could not help but shudder inwardly. "You forgot a lot of things about last night, boy. Lucky I took precautions and laid a mark on you that would remind you." He dropped to his haunches before Harry then, still towering over him and set the plate heavy with food aside to run a finger over the angry pink scar that marked the boy's throat.

Sharp bursts of dizzying pleasure erupted from that place and spiralled through his body, shaking it with spasms of pleasure – the kind he had never even dreamed of. He couldn't help but give a throaty groan. Before the sounds had even died on his lips he grasped the fur covering him and shot backwards, as far into the firm bed of hay as he could go to escape Greyback. The wolf remained in a half-kneeling position, still seemingly amused by Harry's confusion.

"What did you do to me?!" Harry half-gasped, half-snarled, his fingers curling so tightly into the fur that his knuckles turned white. "What was that?!"

"That is a claiming mark, boy, _my_ claiming mark telling the world that I have initiated courtship with you. That you're mine. That you'll be my mate soon enough and they're to keep their paws off of you." His voice was low and rumbling still, and honest, Harry could tell. He felt the colour drain from his own face. He still maintained Hermione was the best in their year, but he'd done well enough in Defence Against the Dark Arts to know what that meant. Especially on the topic of werewolves, thanks to Snape's hatred of Remus…

Harry stared at him for a moment, teetering on panic. "I… You're _lying_!" he growled and without a wand he threw his arm up, sending his fist flying for Greyback's face. The wolf caught his wrist easily in a mighty grip. Harry snarled. Those icy eyes glazed over with pensiveness as lethal fangs greeted him with a smile broader than before.

A spiral of almost electric heat bolted from the place their skin touched to spread like wildfire through his body. He could not help but gasp at the unadulterated strength of it. Managing to turn the gasp into a hiss, however, he wrenched his arm back, cheeks suffused with colour at that all too personal heat that still rippled through him. But that smirk was still there. It made Harry grind his teeth furiously.

"I know you felt it, that undeniable heat when we touched? It's friction, from two forces crashing together, like opposite ends of a magnet," Greyback explained slowly. "We're bound together now, a werewolf's betrothal if you will…"

Harry swayed slightly, that rasping bark of a voice had become so…_hypnotising _with those most recent words. Or perhaps it was just the onset of starvation making him wobble.

Seeming to realise he had all of Harry's attention now; Greyback released his grip on his arm, and pushed the plate of food towards Harry. "Eat your food, I'm not used to cooked meat but delicate little humans like you need it as I understand." He watched as Harry considered it for a moment. Eventually, Harry pulled the plate towards him. His stomach grumbled treacherously.

"You think I don't know what this is?" Harry accused.

"I hope so," Greyback sneered, "even a muggle-raised simpleton knows food when he sees it surely?"

"It's poison!"

"You're far too useful to poison–"

"And why mark me anyway? Why me? Just for the hell of it? I'm hardly _that _desirable!" Harry snapped, disbelieving everything about this situation, it was a trick of Voldemort's, a trap – it must be!

Greyback grunted in irritation then, reaching forward and catching his throat firmly in his grasp, holding but not throttling or squeezing. The coarse digits roughly stroked Harry's throat and the forefinger caressed his chin, both while the thumb rubbed his collarbone thoughtfully. _What is he doing? _He frowned at the pleasantness of that hand around his vulnerable neck and glared even more virally at the wolf.

He was a tad different to how he had been last Harry saw him, freshly escaped from Azkaban and partly submerged in the shadows of the Astronomy Tower that night Dumbledore had died. The once matted hair and whiskers were tamed somewhat. His hair was still silver and long down past his shoulders but it was clean, and that wayward facial hair was trimmed neatly to his face. Despite his vastly improved appearance though, Harry was more disgusted than ever.

This beast, this murderer of the innocent – the werewolf who had turned Remus – had decided to ruin his, Harry's life now as well? This thing was touching him, staring at him in a way so primal and sexual it made Harry's stomach clench. _And he's done something to me – marked me so that my bloody body enjoys all of it, even if it makes me feel sick!_

Wrenching his head to the side he struggled to escape that grasp, but Greyback's grip held strong and the long nails, no claws at his throat and chin scraped warningly as they continued to caress his flesh. Flesh that tingled with treacherous pleasantness.

"That bite mark on your neck means you're my pack now – it means I'm your alpha, and it will tell you to obey. You will try to resist but the part of me inside you that _wants _me will fight to make you listen. Strong-willed as you are, you may even be able to resist that nature's urging, but you will not be able to lie to me, nor I you."

The wolf pulled Harry up slightly so that his face was a few mere hairsbreadths from his own, his humid breath fogging up Harry's glasses. "Look at me boy, you know I'm not lying, you can feel it in your bones. You're mine. When I bit you, I woke a part of you that would have slept on without me, the lycanthrope recessive gene."

It was true. Harry could feel it. He knew this was the truth the same way he'd known that the man and woman looking back at him in the Mirror of Erised, all those years ago were his mother and father. Harry's eyes widened. "Lycan, as in–?"

"As in werewolf. As in it has been part of your bloodstream since birth and I smelt it in the copious amounts of blood painting the Dark Lord's floor yesterday," Greyback growled softly, his coarse fingers still petting his chin and throat mesmerizingly. "As soon as I smelt it I knew I had to have you. Such a rare treasure."

Harry's hands flew up to Greyback's wrist, locking onto the meaty hand and scraping, tugging, clawing for freedom like a panicked animal. "And what the hell makes that so bloody appealing?"

Greyback leant in even closer, inhaling him deeply as if his bare flesh were emitting the finest perfume beneath the furs. "You can take more damage than a normal wizard, surely you noticed? Your core magic is temperamental but stronger. As one of the only humans with the recessive gene you're the only one that can give me pure, _live _werewolf cubs. And powerful offspring at that if the magic strumming your veins like a flippin' guitar is anything to go by." He leant in even more and sniffed deeper. "Oh yeah, I can smell the power, the possibilities, the desire, the innocence. The perfect mate. I can't wait to breed you."

At first he was simply stunned, reeling from shock at that statement, at the unveiling of such shocking truths. Then fury and fear and fire all rose in Harry all at once. "I'm not some werewolf bitch you can control, instincts or no," he snapped, glaring up at him vehemently. "I didn't kneel to Voldemort and I won't kneel to you." He scoffed aloud, glowering darkly.

"'_Breeding'_? I'll rip the thing out of me before I _ever _give birth to anything with _any _part of you in it. I'm a bloody _man_! Not a brood-mare or whatever the dog alternative is." The sentence felt strange to his tongue, given that he had only just realised he had the ability to do such a thing but he had always been quick at adapting and he brushed the peculiarity aside. He could feel that Greyback wasn't lying.

The smirk finally faded from that face and the werewolf stood slowly, towering over Harry. "You've got a nasty temper, boy," he murmured, voice coarse and rasping. "You suit me perfectly." With another unintelligible grunt he pushed the steaming food towards Harry a little more firmly. "I don't eat this rubbish. Eat, there's little enough of you as it is."

Harry simply stared at the plate, his stomach groaning desperately at the sight and smell of it.

"I told you, you're too useful to me to kill – and besides, poison is hardly my style," Greyback flashed his white teeth before stomping back over to the fire and sitting down beside it, the firelight flickering, dancing across his features. Harry watched him tentatively, before pulling the plate towards him. He was too starving to care about pride and besides; he'd need his energy to escape…

A thick mist had rolled in and settled over the wilderness surrounding the barn as the night waned and dawn broke feebly on the horizon. Harry had laid down at some point in the fur and straw but had not slept a wink. He'd been waiting, watching and it seemed at last Greyback had dozed off beside the dead, still lightly smoking fire. He was breathing lightly and hadn't moved at all for some time. _And he's not watching me, _Harry thought as he sat up slowly. He had felt those icy eyes on him all night, devouring him and if it had finally stopped, it could only be because Greyback had fallen into slumber.

Thanks to all the practice sneaking around in his school days, he slid slowly, silently to his feet. His limbs shook weakly, still not completely recovered from his torture at Voldemort's hands but he did not so much as allow the fur or straw that had been his bed to stir a sound.

The tips of his toes carried him across the threshold of the barn and then over the grass away from the campsite the wolf had evidently made for them. _Made for me, _his mind corrected. _Because he's initiated werewolf courtship with me, because he wants me as his mate_. He remembered his lessons on werewolves well, had learned enough about their mating habits to know that the pursued would be able to sense the suitor's intentions and if they were dishonest. Greyback was a brute and a murderer, a foul beast but he hadn't lied.

He _was_ what Greyback had said, a human with the lycanthrope recessive gene. Greyback wanted him because he was the wolf's only chance of having – Harry shuddered – live werewolf young. But he also knew that would mean any other unmated werewolf he came across would be after his arse. That was why Greyback had marked him, to warn off others. _Marked me like his favourite tree he likes to piss up, _he thought wretchedly, just as he reached the line of trees that formed the border of the forest surrounding them.

He didn't care if Greyback had essentially rescued him from Voldemort, he wasn't going to have his life decided for him, have every shred of pride and masculinity stripped away to fulfil Greyback's whims. Did that fool really think he was going to spread his legs and make nice little werewolf cubs with him? _I'm not a fawning werewolf bitch who'll bend for him, _he thought furiously. _I'm not his and I will never let him take me!_

_Snap! _

Harry froze. In his mental tirade he had slipped up, had laid a toe down just a fraction too hard and a twig had cracked underfoot. He inhaled deeply, holding his breath and listened. Greyback's sleeping breaths had halted. Harry swallowed hard. He ran. He bolted into the forest, careless of his nudity and weaved frantically between the trees, his heart hammering like a hummingbird's in his chest. He gasped for air as he flew, the undergrowth and hanging branches reaching out and snagging at his vulnerable flesh. The fog was thick. His sight only reached a few feet ahead but he couldn't stop. He couldn't let Greyback catch him.

Suddenly, a snarl ripped through the air somewhere to his left, his only warning before a huge silver beast burst through the veil of fog and slammed into him, pinning him hard to the ground. Harry grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. Two huge front paws rested on his shoulders while the creature's back legs straddled his own. He winced.

Greyback towered over him, and unlike a werewolf whose blood was tainted by wolf's bane, he was meatier, stronger and more wolf-like in appearance than werewolves like Remus, who clung to their humanity so hard it tainted their appearance. This could have easily been a normal wolf, only bigger, it's eyes piercing blue, it's fangs sharp and crisp white. It was more ferocious than anything Harry had ever seen.

"Let me go!" Harry gasped, but as he struggled the beast only pressed harder on his shoulders until he stilled again. Harry glared up at him. "I'll never be what you want! I'll never lay back and accept you or your plans for me! You can rape me and chase me but I'll never stop fighting you or fighting to escape and I'll _never_ allow anything of yours to grow in my body!" His voice was shaking with breathlessness, fear and anger alike, but he didn't care.

At that moment, the wolf merged grotesquely back into the large man that had watched him from the fireside. He was naked and as strong as he'd been in wolf form, pinning him down to the unforgiving ground with powerful arms as he stared down at him. That silvery hair hung over those huge shoulders in a haphazard curtain and Harry winced inwardly at the thought that his limp prick was tightly sandwiched beneath the man's body.

Greyback growled deeply, warningly as he leant in, his face scant inches from Harry's. "You're mine, so behave your dainty little self or I'll offer you up to those who'd do worse than 'rape' you…"

He meant the remaining death eaters, _Voldemort_…

"There's nothing worse than being stuck with you," Harry glared, spitting in the wolf's face. A snarl broke through his bravado then, however. He was shaken like a rag doll before those talons unhooked from one shoulder. A large fist collided hard with his cheek, sending his head flying to the side. Blood drooled from his broken lip as he righted his dislodged spectacles.

"I've faced nastier, stronger brutes than you," he growled to the misty forest, his face still throbbing with agony. "You act as if you're doing me a favour in raping me? I remember you! You offered to kill Dumbledore in Malfoy's stead! You only saved me from Voldemort to use me as some sort of..._breeding entity_. What if I don't bloody want to have children, much less carry them? For a werewolf no less? What if I don't fancy sleeping with a man? Especially one reputed to eat children? You'll probably eat your children even if you did have any!"

Suddenly, those two meaty arms slammed into the floor either side of him and that massive weight was on his chest. His body tensed in apprehension of the pain but he did not fear pain. He feared rape, loathed, dreaded the reactions that were drug out of him, but he was more than accustomed to pain, had been for some time…

"You bully people to get what you want, you threaten them, but I don't care. If it's a choice between being your whore and _His_ prisoner I'd choose him over you any day! So hand me back to him because I'll kill whatever spawn you put in me the second your back is turned!"

A sharp growl filled the forest now and Harry could not help but flinch as Greyback leant in, their noses almost touching. "I can smell the innocence on you, boy, you haven't killed so much as a gnat. There's no way in hell you'd kill your own child–"

"It'd live a life of murder and bloodshed and pain if it lived," Harry hissed, "I call that a mercy killing."

Just then, Greyback's hand shot down to his flat belly, pressing firmly, almost painfully there. "And I call that the sound of a jumped up bitch who needs to learn a bit more of their new world before they make such rash judgements. You wouldn't kill a child if it was sired by _Grindelwald_ himself." He leant back on his haunches, still pinning Harry to the floor with one hand on his wrists while the other ghosted over the large red mark that showed where he had struck Harry a moment ago.

"I don't think you realise exactly what this situation entails," he growled huskily, his eyes surveying Harry's naked torso hungrily. "This isn't about prisoners or rape or murder and even werewolves don't eat their young, shock you though that might."

Harry merely glared up at him, obstinately silent as the wolf went on. "I'm pursuing you the traditional way, seducing you, winning you – others aren't so…_traditional_. They'd take you, willing or not–"

"As if you care if I'm willing," Harry spat, wincing when Greyback applied more pressure to his wrists to silence him. The other hand trailed down slowly as that gaze held his, the backs of those knuckles caressing the skin over Harry's heart warningly. It hammered even more fiercely in his chest. He held his breath.

"You're bare as the day you were born beneath me and I haven't dispatched with your virginity yet have I?" Greyback growled impatiently. "I found you shelter. I healed your wounds. I filled the hole in your belly and you insult me by insinuating I don't give a shit?"

"Please," Harry snarled, "don't make it sound like you're the saint here. You marked me for your own ends. If I hadn't been a…a recessive lycanthrope or _whatever_ you'd have happily stood by and watched me bleed to death at Voldemort's feet. You saved me because it _suited_ you to. Yet you wonder why I'm hesitant in trusting you?"

Greyback leant back then, loosening his hold on Harry but not releasing him entirely. "You don't have to trust me or want me, that's what the courting period is for. You _will_ trust me and want me, very much and by the time you bind yourself to me as my mate fully, it will be willingly. Be grateful, others might not consider your consent as something important."

Harry snorted disbelievingly and turned his head to the side, refusing to allow the werewolf the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. Especially since the bite on his neck, the connection it forged created a knowledge in Harry that once again, Greyback was telling the truth.

"I'll never willingly bind myself to a murderer or become something I'm not by getting_ pregnant – _much less with a murderer's children," Harry assured him bluntly. "Even if you worship my backside for the rest of eternity it won't change what you are. How many people have you killed?"

"A fair few," Greyback answered in a 'deal with it' tone. He smirked. "You're making this easier to take by painting your image of the blood-thirsty, cold-blooded monster I see," he replied casually, amused.

"I don't need to paint anything – even if you deny luring children into the woods and devouring them alive as the rumours say, you've still killed people – dozens, maybe hundreds!"

Greyback growled lowly. "You're only _just _out of boyhood, don't speak of things you don't understand. That was war. There are always casualties… Men killed far more werewolves than I killed humans." With that, he stood, releasing Harry and leaving him to flush awkwardly upon catching sight of him naked in all his glory. Harry scrambled to his feet, determinedly keeping his gaze averted. His cheeks burned.

"You'll be waiting an eternity for me to be willing," Harry swore, looking around then at the forest that was almost completely swallowed in thick, white furls of fog. He knew what Greyback had planned for him, what he intended and yet Harry still felt unbelievably overwhelmed by the unknown.

There was no way in hell the most wanted magical beast in the country was content to sit back and seduce him into compliance. There was more than that in store. He shivered slightly, covering himself awkwardly in realising he was naked in more than one way and facing an abyss of anonymous madness. At least he'd known what to expect from Voldemort.

_~To Be Continued..._


	2. Moon Heat

A/N: Thank you so everyone who took the time to leave a few words of encouragement or praise. I am so glad you liked the first chapter. I was so nervous about posting as this story has been hidden away on my laptop for so long. Hope you like this next chapter just as much!

**Please be aware of some adult themes/conversations in this chapter. I will not show full sexual scenes on as I have been warned by admins not to or I will have my account deleted. If you want to read the story complete with full sexual scenes, please follow one of the links on my profile :)**

* * *

.: Chapter Two :.

Moon Heat

The thick mist coating the world around him failed to diminish at all that day, or the next. This fog seemed to swell to fill Harry's own head as he walked along the barely visible path through the woods behind Greyback – he wasn't even entirely sure how he came to be doing this. Why was he trailing quietly behind the wolf instead of fleeing? _Because he can outrun you if you take off outright, _his mind supplied with a scheming tone. _Bide your time, wait and then run._ Yes, that was the winning tactic. Yet there was something floating through his muggy mind, waiting there like a predator in the shadows.

_It's the werewolf in me, _his mind whispered warningly,_ the recessive gene or subdued nature, whatever it was that Greyback awoke in you. It wants Greyback, it sees him as a good choice. _

_It wants me to follow him. _At that very thought he stopped still on the uneven path and just ahead of him in the mist, Greyback stopped too, turning to face him.

"You think too much boy, that's your problem," the wolf grumbled, taking a few steps towards him. Harry raised his chin in defiance. He knew that a submissive should lower his head, show his throat in submission and respect. But he wouldn't. He may have werewolf in him from…_somewhere_, but he wasn't a werewolf. He wasn't going to be one of Greyback's bitches.

"If you're still sulking because I have you 'prisoner' then let me enlighten you, even if you _did_ manage to give me the slip the Dark Lord would snatch you back up in a second. He's watching you."

Harry sneered, shifting uncomfortably in the loose trousers and shirt Greyback had bestowed on him. The werewolf had even given him shoes 'to save his dainty feet' he had said. The recollection didn't help him to adjust his tone any. He glared at the wolf hard. "He can't be, I'd have felt him–"

"I'm subduing his presence in your mind. I can do that now I have a connection to it. Our bond overwhelms all others," Greyback punctuated the point by reaching forward and dragging the backs of his knuckles across the angry-looking mark still a vibrant and purple-pink on Harry's neck. Harry shuddered and shot backwards out of his reach.

Greyback smirked. "He's ensuring I'm not going to release you to your little friends, no doubt, but he can only get a general sense of your state of mind. He can't see you or hear your thoughts when you're within range of me. Nobody has the right to see you but me."

He spoke with vehemence and possessiveness of the like Harry had never seen before. Harry was coming to realise it was the werewolf in him. He _understood_ it but it didn't mean he was going to give into his own 'inner wolf' that was almost purring in his ear. It longed to prostrate itself at Greyback's feet and entice him closer with a swing of its hips. Harry almost gagged at the image, wondering why the voice had been growing more impatient, more desperate since he had awoke in Greyback's company two days ago. It was louder than ever today. His skin felt hot and tingly, almost buzzing with need for…_something,_ though he knew not what.

"You still haven't told me where we're going," Harry snapped, averting his gaze then in awkwardness. He and Greyback were able to sort of feel each other's vibes, which meant that the werewolf must have been able to feel the ethereal, maddening heat beginning to overwhelm him. He thought he could feel a peculiar heat radiating from Greyback's skin now they stood closer, almost vibrating through the air between them, but it was hard to tell what was him and what was coming from outside his own body. He winced.

Every limb felt shaky, red-hot and sticky, clammy with a light sheen of sweat. It felt like a hot summer's day in the middle of spring. _Merlin, help me,_ he gasped, his mouth dry and his head growing fuzzier. "What's happening to me?" His voice was almost lost to the intense heat wave that was sweeping over him. He started to sway backwards, at least he thought he did but two strong hands steadied him, gripping his shoulders firmly.

"It's started already," he heard the werewolf mutter and he squinted hard to bring the man into focus. "I didn't think your instincts would have matured enough in a few days to worry about _this_. I'd hoped we'd reach the den before you had to face this."

It occurred to Harry to question this. His brow furrowed and his lips parted in question but he couldn't make coherent words leave his lips. All he managed was a hazy, dry echo of the word, "den?" The two hands that had stopped him from falling tugged him forwards. He grunted as they pulled him against a hard chest – a chest that was far too hard and hot, with a smattering of hair that tickled his skin. It made the tingling in his flesh intensify and he cried out, shoving himself hard away from the steadying embrace.

"No!" he shouted, stumbling backwards but managing to stay upright. His body was positively shaking now, even worse since feeling the foreboding rightness of the werewolf's body against him. "I… What're you doing to me?!" he demanded, his voice raspy. "My body is… Stop it, whatever you're doing!"

"It's not me, boy," Greyback answered gruffly, approaching him again. Harry flew back, almost stumbling over an upturned tree-root, _just_ managing to keep his feet. Greyback was still coming at him. Harry's heart was hammering somewhere in the region of his throat now and his fingers were clawing frantically at the air, as if trying to snag an invisible lifeline.

"You've studied werewolves at that silly school of yours, you _know _what this is," Greyback practically breathed, stopping a few feet from him, sending waves of gradually intensifying heat across Harry's body. Harry was panting hard now, the trousers and loose shirt Greyback had thrown at him the other day felt scratchy and suffocating, far too tight on his body despite the way the garments practically hung off him.

"You're feeling the pull of the moon, the beginning of moon heat," that voice explained, seeming very distant, like an echo inside Harry's head rather than words spoken before him. "A werewolf's time of fertility. Your body is telling you it's ready to–"

"No!" Harry cried, shaking his head as if that would clear the muggy fog threatening to drown him from the inside. "I'm not – I'll never-! I'll _die _before I fuck you!" he snarled. Greyback was right; he did know (at least roughly) what moon heat was. Werewolves didn't have mating seasons they had the full moon. But then, him and those like him with the recessive gene in their blood were the only ones that could carry that young to term. And that was why Greyback wanted him. Greyback, who was now advancing on him again as he began to sway.

_He wants to fuck me!_ Harry thought_. He wants me to…to give him…!_ And oh Merlin, the wolf blood in him was boiling with yearning for just that, because of the moon heat.

"Never!" he cried again, shoving hard at Greyback and staggering back. "Stay away from me! Stay back!" He turned on his heel then, flying blindly through the trees, desperate to put space between himself and the wolf that was probably just waiting for the moon heat to turn him into a pool of white-hot desperation. He knew why werewolves were so mindless under the full moon – they were hunting for food and a mate, driven mad by the need to sew their seeds in the short time given.

The visions, the urges, the increase in saliva in his mouth at that thought did not even abate as he realised, feet still carrying him as fast as they could go, that to get pregnant during the full moon meant one thing. Greyback would mount him as a werewolf.

Suddenly Greyback slammed hard into him, throwing them both to the floor with Harry on the bottom, struggling for freedom with every scant breath left in him. With a final snarl, however, Greyback pinned Harry's hands above his head with one of his own fists and his legs to the ground with his own bodyweight. He hovered above him. Those icy eyes stared down hard into Harry's.

"You have no idea where we are, boy, so let me tell you this place is regularly teeming with wolves come the full moon," Greyback growled, shaking him roughly to stop him from struggling long enough to listen. "Not all of them will heed my mark on you and now you're awoken as a carrier you're not only easy prey but ripe for the taking as well. Do you understand me? They'll either tear you apart in frenzy to have you first or rape you one at a time until you go mad!"

For a moment, Harry just stared up at him, eyes wide but still fuzzy with that pearly white fog swirling around them. It took a great deal of concentration but eventually he found his words. "S-Surely…surely you'll do exactly the same once you transform?" he breathed. He knew that elder wolves like Greyback had control when they transformed in general, but the light of the moon took control of all werewolves, the experienced and the new. No werewolf had control of himself under the moon, they were ruled by their instincts not their 'human' feelings.

Greyback leant down then, inhaling him curiously. "You're afraid." It was a statement not a question.

Harry glowered, albeit dazedly. "I'm set to be gang-raped or ripped to shreds by you or a bunch of stray wolves – of course I bloody well am!"

"Good," Greyback answered simply, "it means you're not as stupid as I thought you were and you just might bloody listen to me." He pressed harder on Harry's wrists to further drive home the seriousness of the situation. "I didn't think the werewolf in you would have awoken enough to be affected by the moon this time but it's more potent in you than I'd expected. That's what you're feeling now – your body preparing for moon heat, desperate to fulfil your basic purpose as far as nature is concerned."

Harry stared up at him silently. Horrified. His body was hot, sensitive and driven mad with lust because he wanted to be mated with – fertilised like some wanton bitch. He winced and turned his head away, staring fixedly at the mist lapping at the edges of the nearest trees. Humiliation was ripe in his throat and clung to his every pore. He knew Greyback could smell it and expected leering, derisive jeers, even the pressure of his hips to lower onto Harry's already feverish body. What he didn't expect was the pressure on his wrists to let up a fraction. Still, he wouldn't turn his head to look on the wolf again. He kept his gaze averted.

"Stop that mawkishness," Greyback barked sharply. "It's nature. My body is suffering the same in the need to mate but I'm older and I've dealt with it for longer, I can control it better. You'll learn to handle it more with every moon."

Harry winced again and this time clamped his eyes shut, biting back the prickling hot tears behind his eyes, unwilling to let them fall. So this would be his life from now on? A slave to his body's instincts at every moon, instincts that forced him to spread his legs and take it up the arse from any werewolf that managed to pin him down. He could feel it in his loins now, burning hotter than anything he had ever felt. If Greyback pressed down on him now and took him, his body would welcome him with a song of bliss.

_Even if my mind is screaming in negation, _he thought.

He bit hard into his lower lip, desperate to feel and taste the blood so at least he would know his body was still his to control, for now at least. He could feel Greyback's potent scent in his nostrils, urging him to tilt his head back and offer his throat. Harry's instincts were urging him to do one thing while his own conscious (that he knew better and had lived with for all his life) was telling him to listen to his pride. That was the only way he could explain it.

"The voices in you are about even at the moment, but the moonlight will make your instincts stronger," Greyback murmured, his voice still rough and coarse but somehow gentler than before. It sounded almost consoling – as if he cared about the humiliation and self-loathing rolling off Harry in waves. "It won't take away who you are or what you want, only make your instincts' desires more potent. Mate, eat, sleep. When we have cubs you'll be overprotective of them–"

"_When_? You assume I'll let you fuck me? That I'll give you…_cubs_?" Harry snapped, without opening his eyes or looking at him. His teeth dug into his lip even harder until at last he tasted hot coppery blood. "I told you, I'd never allow anything of yours to grow inside me. I'm a man, a _wizard _not a woman and not a fucking werewolf slapper!"

Instead of arguing back, Greyback growled in barely contained frustration and one of his hands completely released Harry's wrists in favour of caressing his now wounded lip with a coarse thumb. Harry winced but the thumb wiped away the blood, turning his face up to look at him.

After a moment, Harry's pride swelled and forced him to open his eyes. That icy gaze was locked on his face. His lip stung under that thumb but nothing was as painful as the way his instincts roared inside him with longing for the creature above him. To his instincts Greyback was the most powerful, the biggest, most experienced and most in control of his nature – which most other werewolves were slaves to. The alpha, the ideal mate.

Harry's skin flushed darkly as that unbearable vibrating heat rippled through his every pore like a constant tide and he closed his eyes tightly again in stubbornness. "I don't want any of this," he whispered, only just realising he had said it aloud when Greyback caressed his lip almost consolingly.

"You're a virgin–"

"Oh, you'd like to think that wouldn't you?!" Harry snarled, despite knowing it was useless. Greyback could sense the truth in that fact even without the ability his mark on Harry's throat gave him, the knowledge of when he was lying.

"–and a breeder, so you get to choose when I take you, when we perform the finalisation ritual to our mating," Greyback continued bluntly. "Back at my pack you will be treated as precious, as royalty. I won't touch you until you welcome me to your body, it's how it has always been done. My pack upholds tradition–"

"But others, rogue wolves might not, _I know_, you said," Harry snapped bitterly, turning his head to the side again before he opened his eyes. He could tell that Greyback was telling the truth but that didn't eradicate the one important fact. "Don't dress it up in fancy clothing. You say you rescued me but in fact you've only trapped me in another prison. You say I'll have the choice, that I'm precious but you _bit_ me without asking and you're holding me here now against my will like a prisoner. Just stop trying to make this seem like a good life because it never will be. To me it's a prison as vile as Voldemort's with different shackles – that's all!"

Greyback stared at him for a moment, and then, "you're saying you'd rather go back to Voldemort than be mine?"

"Yes," Harry glared, "I'd rather have him cut off every extremity I have a thousand times over than be emasculated by being your bitch." The thumb on his lip suddenly gripped his chin firmly, tilting his face up to Greyback's again. For a moment, Harry thought the wolf might punch him, he knew alpha werewolves were very insistent about respect from their pack mates and so it was a big surprise when the wolf merely stood up, releasing him completely.

"You have a big mouth and plenty of fire but you need to learn when to surrender a little for your own gain," Greyback said with dangerous calm, standing beside him, watching him with obviously strained patience. "Anyone else would have had their throat ripped out just now. I am the most powerful alpha on this continent. I don't coddle and console insolent whelps – yet I have done it for you, for your benefit and you dare continue to insult me? It's an honour to be chosen by me!"

"Then bestow it on someone who appreciates it better!" Harry bellowed, staggering to his feet, his hand flying out to steady him on the nearest tree-trunk. He still felt giddy, his mind still fogged up and his skin still feverish, but he could think a bit clearer now for some reason. "You'll be waiting for an eternity for me to choose you so it'll always be rape. I'll never want you. I'll never respect you and I'll always keep trying to escape. This is a prison to me, not a life!"

Left panting slightly from his rant, Harry glanced warily around at the surrounding forest. It was silent but for the distant call of birds that Harry could not see but could _feel _with his renewed senses. After his breathing calmed, however, Greyback grunted and gestured ahead in the direction they had been going originally. "That minor contact should have sated your instincts for an hour or so at least, we should get moving to find some shelter for you before the moon rises. You'll be incoherent again soon and from that little speech I doubt you're ready for the only thing that will stop the burning need – which will grow evermore insatiable the closer we get to the full moon, you realise."

Having had no doubt whatsoever as to what that only solution might be, Harry held his tongue and glanced this way and that into the blinding fog before following a few paces behind the werewolf as he set off again. He had a feeling, a gut instinct that Greyback might be forced to leave him during the moon and if he was right, it would be the perfect time to flee.

They walked for some time after that in the muggy fog, the dampness of the cold air combining with the unnatural heat in Harry's body to form an uncomfortable sticky sheen of sweat over his skin. Harry grumbled moodily, wiping his face and neck with the overlarge t-shirt he was wearing, desperate to tear it and the trousers off his body to escape the heat.

He had no idea how much time had actually passed but thankfully the incoherency of earlier hadn't returned just yet as Greyback had threatened. He felt itchy, hot, tired and moody and there was an ache deep in his belly he tried not to think about. But he was at least in control still.

It did worry him, however that the fog had not diminished and they seemed to be heading further and further into the forest. He did not want to be in the centre of this labyrinth of trees come the full moon tomorrow, or he'd never escape Greyback – or any of the other wolves that Greyback said was out here.

"How far are we away from your pack?" Harry asked, breaking the silence that had reigned since they had set off again. His throat was a little dry; maybe they'd been walking for longer than he'd thought? He tipped his head up to the heavens and saw an orangey-pink light peeping through the close-knit canopy of the treetops. "You said something about a den? Is it in the middle of this forest?"

Greyback slowed a little to allow Harry to fall into stride beside him and cast him a cursory look before returning his gaze to the direction he was walking. "All packs' dens are different, ours isn't in this forest. It's beyond the village just outside of here, in the mountainside on the edge of another woodland."

Harry ignored the use of the word 'ours' and repeated "cave?" hesitantly.

Greyback snorted. "Yes, a cave, from what I hear of your past that should be luxury to you. Rumour has it you slept in a cupboard under the stairs?"

"Where did you pick up that rumour? From the most recent child you snatched?" he retorted stiffly, despite having heard Greyback say that was mostly a rumour he had simply allowed to circulate – _almost. _He didn't want to think about what the full truth was.

"It's another two or three days walk from here on _your_ feet," Greyback continued, ignoring Harry's words. "I hadn't anticipated you reacting to the moon, it's set us both on edge, slowed us down. I'm hoping we can reach the village by tomorrow night so I can leave you there for the night safely."

Harry just nodded. He would use his instincts as an excuse for compliance and play along until then. As soon as Greyback was out of earshot he'd find a way to escape and then hopefully find a way back to Hermione and Ron. It did occur to him that with Greyback away from him Voldemort might be able to watch him unhindered, to stop his escape even, that was why Harry had to move quickly and think even quicker.

"I s'pose I need to be protected from you as well as everyone else on the full moon," Harry murmured absently. "I'm not sure how you reckon me living in your cave with your pack is going to work every full moon." _Not that I'll let you get me that far,_ Harry's mind supplied.

At that, Greyback stopped and looked him in the eyes for the first time since they'd set off again. "I won't kill you, not even as a wolf under the full moon. The wolf and I are one. I recognise my pack mates and companions, I'll recognise you as my mate, so will the rest of the pack once we're with them.

"Your full moons will be much safer once we're with the pack. It's out here in the open with rogue wolves and other packs running around that you're in danger," Greyback explained as if it were public knowledge. But even Harry had never learned this in Defence Against the Dark Arts. It must have shown in his face, for Greyback's expression twisted into a bitter smirk.

"Should've guessed your teachers wouldn't tell you any of this, eh? Sounds much more impressive if they say we're savages who'd tear apart our own mates and young? Even wolves have sense, that's all we are during the full moon, _wolves_, not savage otherworldly beings."

Harry didn't say anything, merely stared at him. He knew enough about what Remus had suffered to be ashamed of his own kind for what they had done to penalise werewolves. There was nothing he could say in their defence even if he had wanted to.

"My wolf will know you, as I said, thanks to my mark and my scent on you, but it will react…_differently, _on instinct rather than with my conscious thought," Greyback continued and his voice grew more grave. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you but _do not_ challenge me. You must submit, always. A loss of your pride tomorrow night will preserve your life for the day after. You're unusually rebellious for a sub, it might be dangerous for you to challenge me and for me to punish you before your body has had chance to fully mature with your newly awoken werewolf blood. You're still vulnerable–"

"So you won't hurt me as long as I bow and scrape to you?" Harry demanded hotly. "So if I so much as look you in the eye I might be ripped to shreds?"

Greyback grimaced. "Don't over exaggerate. I'm just saying my wolf won't realise that your body won't be able to take as much punishment as a normal unruly werewolf sub. If in doubt just lay down and turn your head to the side and expose your throat."

Harry sneered. "And if I'll be so bloody safe with you as long as I play along like a good little bitch, why are you intending to ditch me on the full moon night?" he demanded, not entirely sure why he was arguing with it when that was exactly what he wanted. It must have been the instincts. _Sulking because it wants nothing more than to snuggle up to him and take it,_ Harry thought with loathing.

With a snort, Greyback continued walking and Harry followed. "You're a greenhorn in the werewolf ways still. You might get too close while I'm writhing in the pain of the transformation and get hurt accidentally."

Even if Greyback had said that, had thought of his safety purely for his own gain, the initial fact that the thought was there was still…

_I've got to get out of here,_ Harry thought frantically, shoving aside such foolish thoughts. It wouldn't matter if Greyback was in stark raving love with him, he was still a murderer, the bastard responsible for all Remus' suffering and on top of that, he wanted to turn _him_ into some little bitch for breeding. He would never stop running from that, no matter what.

So lost in these thoughts was he that when Greyback held an arm out to halt him, he walked straight into it with an _'oof!' _

"What the–?!"

"Hold it a second," Greyback whispered harshly, sniffing the air in each direction a few times and inclining his head to listen. Harry tried sniffing subtly but he realised the slight increase in his senses didn't reach as far as Greyback's.

"Shit," the wolf cursed, his face twisting in a grimace. "Looks like there's a new pack in these woods. Some rogues got together I reckon. I don't think it'd be a good idea if we run into them with you so close to moon heat and unmated. These savages consider a mark of intent a mere technicality…"

Harry stared at him. The novelty of Greyback calling someone a savage was a bit rich, he thought. "Some of those wolves that you said aren't quite as 'traditional' as you?" he asked, trying to seen unbothered about it all.

"You sound worried," Greyback replied, which Harry took as a yes.

"Anyone would be worried about being pounced on by a load of randy werewolves. I don't _want_ to get raped and impregnated, much less made to enjoy it all by these rancid instincts." Harry retorted bitterly. He jumped when Greyback whirled around at his words, suddenly looking livid with possessiveness.

"They won't do that," Greyback growled dangerously, his eyes tinged with flickers of otherworldly gold. Angry gold. "I won't let them touch you," he snarled, surging forwards and seizing a fistful of Harry's hair. Harry gasped, his hands flying up to scratch frantically at Greyback's wrist. "On your knees," the wolf grunted, "it'll only take a second.

Harry was forced down onto his knees despite his protesting limbs by the hand in his hair. It didn't hurt but he couldn't move either. He preferred pain to being trapped. "No!" Harry gasped. "What are you doing?" His eyes flew wide when Greyback's other hand lowered to those low-riding trousers hanging off the werewolf's hips. "Let me go!" He screamed, panicked. "You said I got to choose! Get off me!"

Greyback grunted. He gave Harry's hair a firm tug to immobilise him and to force his head up, making Harry stare up into his face. A face that looked quite terrifying at that moment, Harry was not ashamed to say.

"I'm not going to fuck you, you stupid boy. I'm going to protect you. This whole bloody forest has to know that you're mine to keep you safe. A mark on your throat won't satisfy some of these bastards. There's only two alternatives to sex to keep you safe right now, so choose." With that, he shoved his trousers down the last few inches and produced a long, thick but completely flaccid cock. Harry's eyes went impossibly wide then. It was enormous, only inches from his face and Harry knew only two other things besides sex that involved _that_. He swallowed, _hard_.

"Y-You, you want to piss on me or–"

"Cum on you," Greyback finished for him bluntly. "Either is preferable to rape surely?" he demanded gruffly, impatiently. "You need to be as covered in my scent as possible as well as carrying the mark of intent to even stand a chance of warding them off. I can and _will _tear apart anyone that touches you, but that would risk your safety and I'd prefer to avoid that."

In any other situation, it might strike Harry as odd that the werewolf was capable of thinking so rationally, even if he was an alpha. But right now, all Harry could think about was his cracking pride and…_that _right in front of his eyes.

Sensing this no doubt, Greyback spoke again in that oddly soothing yet gruff voice, even if he still looked livid. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, you're hardly the first werewolf to have either done to them and if it bothers you so much, you should know that I won't let you move unless you choose one."

"I – I'm not a werewolf, I'm a wizard – I'm a _man_," Harry insisted, though his voice was almost lost. At this, Greyback released his hair, but Harry kept his head as it was. The hand slid down to touch his unmarked shoulder in would-be consolation.

"One of your parents carried this gene as well and most likely never realised. It only becomes active when you're bitten by a werewolf but it's still part of your blood, as much as it is part of mine–"

"_You_ did this to me," Harry hissed, a hint of despair to his tone that he despised. "Just because you wanted me, because I was the…the best _prize_–"

"Ultimately yes, but the alternative was you being humiliated and publicly tortured to death," Greyback said, as calmly as any man could with his cock hanging out in front of another's face. Harry fought the urge to bunch up and put distance in between himself and that thing as Greyback continued indifferently, "You'll come to accept this part of yourself just as you accepted your magic."

That thumb that had traced his wounded lip earlier tilted his chin up higher now so his head was leaning back slightly, all while that other hand began to work with fast, unyielding strokes over the burgeoning arousal before his eyes. He shut his eyes tight…

*****CENSORED. FOR STORY/CHAPTER WITH FULL SEXUAL SCENES FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE.*****

"Turn your head, show me your throat," Greyback breathed against his neck, his spittle and hot breath creating a thin layer of moisture across Harry's collarbone. Harry grit his teeth again, swallowing hard against the swell of heat that bubbled up inside him. He glared one final time at Greyback before tilting his head to the side slowly.

A deep, rolling growl of approval shuddered over the lips dangerously close to his adam's apple as it moved with his swallowing this time. It was a sound of unmistakeable appreciation that vibrated across his skin as Greyback dived in for his neck. A mix of teeth, lips and tongue worshipped his throat, going far beyond the bounds of protection, Harry thought. But it was his last conscious thought. Those fangs scraped the frail skin over his tendons just right and his body went rigid. A cry of unadulterated bliss flew from his lips as his eyes glazed over and pleasure seized control of his every limb.

The wolf in him howled with delight as he groaned aloud and his fingers scraped up the dirt beneath him. He felt dizzy again, incoherent but blissfully so this time, not painfully. No one had ever touched any part of him so intimately and the new sensations had driven his already sensitive body into frenzy.

"Yes," Greyback growled intensely against his skin. Harry's body undulated in answer, his conscious mind completely enfolded in the fog of arousal. He could feel every emotion in the wolf gripping him tightly and he had never felt so desired, precious, needed – at home.

His own fingers flew up then to Greyback's long silver locks, scraping frantically at his scalp, tugging his hair in urgent need for – _something_. Heat coiled like a serpent in his belly and he groaned aloud again, trying to convey his need even if he didn't understand it himself.

"H-Hot!" He gasped out hoarsely. "Aches…!"

A large hand slid down his back, caressing him. He gave a softer cry this time, hearing Greyback panting against his ear.

"Don't tempt me to ease that ache, boy, you'll regret–"

"Make it st… Too hot… Make it…!"

That low rumbling growl answered his cries, a hot tongue laving the shell of his ear.

Suddenly everything stopped. The soft growling in his ear turned to a blood-curdling snarl. It was a roar of danger, of warning. Greyback lifted his head from the crook of Harry's neck and glared into the mist beyond his shoulder. He gripped Harry tighter, but not in ecstasy.

"Don't move, boy," he growled in Harry's ear and shifted back from him a little, releasing him to drop his fur-lined cloak around Harry's shoulders. Pulling the cloak tight around Harry, he got to his feet, moving before him, putting himself between Harry and the shadows slowly appearing from the mist.

Slowly, as Greyback stood, the hazy fog in Harry's mind ebbed away. It lingered ominously at the edges of his mind, not as powerful but very much there – waiting for his urges to become too great again. He knew that the few touches had sated his yearnings temporarily, staggering the moment when he'd be in that dizzying, incoherent confusion again like before. His coherency and human conscience flew back to him in one foul swoop. He had but a moment to feel disgusted by himself, shiver at the echo of his cries before a gruff, unfamiliar voice from ahead of him drew his attention to more urgent matters.

"It's been some time since we saw you last, Fenrir," the cold voice said, danger and snake-like calculation evident in his voice. Harry watched as three large, bulky figures stepped from behind the veil of mist and came into view, a good few metres from them. He felt Greyback bristle and sensed that any closer without invitation and he would rip them to shreds.

_He's on edge because I'm in moon heat, _he realised, _somehow_. It was a deep inner knowledge that his werewolf awakening had imbued him with. _They all are. And Greyback would rip them to shreds if they touched me_. He was not sure if that reassured him or not, but he pulled the fur cloak tighter around him to hide his naked chest despite the fact that he was still boiling hot.

The wolf in him, the moon was telling him to be small at the moment and he could not help but listen to it this time. Even his human pride wasn't stupid enough to rise and square up to a bunch of rogue werewolves without a wand, especially when they couldn't stop looking at him.

He glared back at them, ignoring the moon's whispering suggestion to lower his eyes. He wouldn't bow to Voldemort or Greyback, he most certainly wouldn't bow to these beasts. Greyback shifted in front of him, clearly displeased that the newcomers could not tear their eyes from him. But his every muscle positively throbbed with tension when the man standing between the two others spoke again.

"What brings you here so close to the full moon, Fenrir? And with an unmated sub so ripe with fertility at your heels?"

"He's not unmated, he's mine, Conall," Greyback snapped venomously, reaching behind him to tug the cloak down from Harry's marked throat. Harry winced but did not get the chance to argue. "And that fertility you smell is mine too – he's ripe for me, me alone. I've claimed him ready for mating when we reach my pack. Will you challenge me on this?"

Harry wrenched himself free of Greyback and pulled the cloak tighter around himself again, giving him a mutinous glare before continuing to stare warningly at the trio that stood before them. They were all quite tanned, their skin kissed by the sun and while the two 'book-ends' were identical twins with fiery auburn hair that stuck up in all directions, the middle man that had spoken had hair as dark and rich as blood. _An older brother, _Harry guessed. They were as rough and wild as the wilderness around them and just as muscled as Greyback, if not quite as tall.

The middle wolf, Conall chuckled at Harry. "A tad obstinate for a sub, is he not? You let a bitch brush off his alpha's touch, Fenrir? You have gone soft. Are his dainty thighs and the treasure between so awe-inspiring as to tame even you?"

Greyback snarled again. "Remind yourself who you're speaking to. I have been the alpha of our entire species even while you still sucked at your mother's tit you insolent whelp." He reached back then and dragged Harry to his feet, keeping a grip on his upper arm but leering at the trio of wolves. "And he_ is_ a sub but he's the alpha's sub, not some common bitch. Show some respect. He's on a level far above you."

There was an ominous silence then in the misty clearing. Harry kept his chin high, his jaw set and his eyes on the strangers through it all. He was determined to show no more weakness than they must have seen with him cooing like a slut in Greyback's arms. He flushed and grit his teeth at the memory. He could not think of that now, not when battle could be imminent.

Despite never having come across a werewolf besides Remus, he'd gathered that Greyback was top dog. Still, he had the suspicion that these strays could cause plenty of trouble, especially if the _vibe_ he felt in his bones was right. There were more of them nearby, of that he was certain. At least a handful more rebellious, testosterone-hyped mongrels.

_And they can all smell I'm in moon-heat, _he thought with a pang of horror.

Greyback stepped a fraction closer to him, as if having heard his thought, or sensed it somehow.

"No offense meant, Alpha," Conall replied with far too much sincerity, bowing his head slightly to Greyback, but not Harry. Greyback growled a little at that and the other wolf added, "nor to you, Alpha Numero. Please, rest with us tonight, we insist. It is the least we can do in apology to shelter you during moon heat, a difficult time for all of us."

Harry bristled at that, foreboding emanating from his very core despite the display of chivalry. They were looking at him with expressions he couldn't quite place, but did not care for regardless. He didn't know how exactly, whether it was simply his instincts or his connection to Greyback but he knew that these rebels meant trouble. He knew just how much danger they posed if he gave them any reason to doubt Greyback's authority. If _he_ made him look weak in any way.

_And to them, an alpha that can't even keep his sub in check is a weak one, _he thought. Those that lived on the outskirts like these mongrels didn't hold traditions like the rest, Greyback had said as much. Carriers like Harry weren't precious, not 'numero uno', they were weaker. They were chattle to be taken and swapped around at will, to do with as the more powerful saw fit. He shuddered at the thought, his teeth clenching, but his sharp and blatant refusal died before it even left his tongue as a large hand squeezed his shoulder in warning.

As loathed as he was to admit it, without a wand Greyback was his only protection right now. If he acted up he could put them both in danger, especially as he could _sense_ that there were many more nearby, waiting for a fight – longing for it. He could sense their bloodlust from where he stood.

_And it's not just because emotions are running high at moon heat either…_

A large hand on his shoulder silenced the sharp and blatant refusal that had been about to leap from his tongue, but he could not help but grind his teeth when Greyback spoke.

"You know how to apologise at least," he grunted, stance still tense. "My mate is in need of rest and a full stomach at this time of the month."

Harry couldn't help but notice the wolf on the right was staring at him as if sizing him up. "From the looks of things he doesn't eat like the rest of us," the wolf said after another moment of uncomfortable staring. Harry frowned, wondering exactly what _that _was supposed to mean, but Greyback cut him off again.

"His body is made differently but it carries werewolf blood," he growled, that edge of warning still prominent in his voice. "All carriers are the same. Surely even a whelp can cook a meal for their alpha's mate?"

It was an insult that they had questioned this in the first place, Harry realised, his head beginning to hurt, his mind slowly being swamped with werewolf etiquette. He winced, pressing his palm to his forehead hard, trying to rub away the pain. It failed. Greyback squeezed his shoulder harder in what he probably thought was comfort. Harry inwardly snarled. He just wished he would stop touching him; the werewolf in him was enjoying it too much.

"Show me to your fire," Greyback demanded then, his hand sliding down to grip Harry's arm and hold him close to his side as he began to move forwards. "Would you keep us standing here all bloody night?"

Another lesson in werewolf etiquette, Harry realised was that a brash, rude and demanding alpha was the most desired kind – the most respected among these creatures. The moment they stepped into the rebels' camp it became a war of testosterone, one that Greyback was winning of course, but just barely.

Harry watched them all quietly out of the corner of his eye as he sat on the fur cloak Greyback had draped around him earlier, laying it out underneath him like a blanket. He ate the rabbit they had been forced to cook him over the fire quietly, grateful that his place was furthest from everyone else and yet close enough to the fire that the arms of the wilderness around them did not quite envelop him.

Greyback was in the throng of testosterone, the centre of the rowdy conversation and boisterous laughter that was all too forced for Harry's liking. He felt irritable and sweaty again. His skin was tingling with unbearable heat and he swore the places where Greyback's seed had painted him earlier were white hot now. He was swiftly becoming overwhelmed with it once again. Moon heat, he decided was simply another name for torture, one he would have to endure until he got back to the wizarding world and managed to find a cure for….

His throat tightened around his last mouthful of rabbit at the thought of the wizarding world, at the thought of Ron, Hermione and everyone else that must be worried frantic for him. He swallowed hard around the lump of meat lodged in his throat and wiped his hands on the dewy grass before laying down, his back turned to the unruly dozen around the campfire – all of whom he could feel sneaking looks at him.

They were rebels, without a pack but they were in Greyback's territory, which meant he was their alpha, pack or no pack. He had the feeling they would have still have no qualms about trying it on with him, whether they believed him to be their alpha's or not. Loyalty was about as thick as water with these pariahs; he could sense it from the way they smelled. They reeked of lust and anger and blood. He cringed at the thought of any of them touching him, even as his body shivered in longing for touch of any kind.

He belonged to no one, especially not any of the horny arseholes not a few feet from him. _And I'll kill myself before I let any of them impregnate me, _he snarled mentally, the very idea making him feel almost as ill as that of his loved ones and what they must be thinking had happened to him. _I'll get back to them, _he thought determinedly, reminding himself of his plan over and over, using it to stop himself from tumbling into the gaping abyss of despair opening – waiting for him to topple in.

"You haven't claimed him properly," a voice from the fireside said, evidently to Greyback. Harry swore it was that Conall, the boisterous prick from earlier. He seemed to be the 'leader' of this pack of misfits. _And his is the gaze that won't stop lingering over me every time I move,_ Harry thought, shifting a little so that he could pull half of Greyback's cloak over him, determinedly covering himself despite the fact that his body was on fire with sweat. He struggled to feign sleep, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of thinking he'd heard their jeers.

"Is that why he reeks of melancholy?" Conall snorted. "Surely even Alpha Fenrir Greyback isn't cruel enough to tease his bitch during moon-heat?"

Greyback made a non-committal grunt. The sound of him tearing off another mouthful from the leg of stag he'd been chewing punctuated the sound. "It's his first moon heat–"

"All the more reason, begin as you mean to go on – it's early April, he can still have a litter for the autumn if you act now."

Harry felt sick at how eager Conall sounded and at the length of the silence that fell between the beasts at the fireside. Eventually Greyback answered. "I'll act as I please and if it pleases me to act in a week's time or a month, or a year it's no one's decision but my own. A pack works differently to this type of…_settlement _you have here," Greyback said gruffly. "Carriers need to feel secure in their environment when expecting, their bodies are sensitive to stress–"

"Bollocks," Conall snorted, his mouth full of his own meal by the sounds of it. "He's Alpha Numero, the Alpha's other half. He's a bitch. They exist to serve us, not to be catered to." Either side of him, his twin brothers (who Harry had learned were named Cannagan and Caleb) chuckled around their mouthfuls.

"I've never understood the 'traditional' way," Conall continued. "Why waste time courting them, wooing them when we can just take them? They're carriers, they're _born_ to carry, to have as many cubs as they can before they die. We give their lives purpose. Why should we chase after them?"

"_As many as possible?"_ Greyback repeated, as if that were the most stupid thing he had ever heard. "There's a reason why nature only kicks out one of them to every 3 of us, a reason they were rare even before the Ministry…" Harry could hear Greyback grinding his teeth as his voice died and wondered vaguely what the werewolf had been about to say. At least, the ever dwindling coherent part of his mind wondered…

"Our kind were never meant to breed like that. Even muggles know how it works. The weaker species, the rabbits and rats make young a plenty. The strong, those most likely to survive past their suckling years have less. We don't _need_ to procreate, we bite and then we live for centuries."

Harry swore he felt Greyback's gaze fall upon him now along with everyone else's and he tried to slow his breathing so that his feigned sleep would seem more convincing.

"They're a gift. We shouldn't be able to have live young from our own bodies but they enable us to," Greyback continued. "He's special, he's obstinate and strong and that's why I chose him as my own. Only mine, I don't share," he grunted. "I've had my fill of passing whores and tumbles in the grass. He will be my mate, that's why I court him. You can't force a mate, they must come to you willingly."

Greyback grumbled, gnawing the final chunk of meat from the bone before tossing it into the fire. The flames danced and hissed, flowing sinuously up towards the sky, as if beckoning it down to its bed like a lover. "I didn't bargain for having to give lessons the night before moon heat. Rogue pups that don't even know the basics of courtship and breeding have no business being without a pack."

"We've been in your territory a while, Alpha," Cannagan replied.

Greyback got to his feet then, his great mass casting a large shadow over where Harry lay. "Do you think you would've remained here so peacefully if I hadn't permitted it? I knew you were here, runt, don't think you've outsmarted me!"

Cannagan, who Harry thought was about as much of a runt as Hagrid, growled under his breath, but something cut short the sound, a thud of flesh hitting flesh. Conall smacking his brother to his knees.

"Your brothers need to learn respect before they learn to use their tongues," Greyback grumbled, "You're their leader, their incompetence is a shame on you. I suggest you fix them before the packs you all left behind come to think of you as common dogs." With that, Greyback turned from them and stalked over to where Harry lay. "And if I am forced to fix them for not being able to keep their pricks in check tonight you'll _all_ feel my displeasure."

Harry could not help but tense as the werewolf flumped to the ground beside him, not demanding more of Harry's fur cloak to lay on as Harry had expected but merely laying so close to him that Harry could feel his heat through the fur. Harry swallowed. His lips parted dryly, sweat beaded across his brow but before he could find his words Greyback spoke.

"Sleep," he grunted, for his ears only.

Harry said nothing. He was so hot all over, his skin was tingling and itching at once like earlier and his veins were throbbing with white-hot need. A diminutive whine of a groan he had never heard come through a human's lips left him then. His body arched. He pressed his head hard into the fur in an attempt to alleviate some of the maddening inner itch. His cock was throbbing and he had to curl his fingers tightly into the fur to stop himself from reaching down to try and sate it.

"Cant…!" He gasped then, frustration and humiliation rippling through him. He knew that every beast there could smell him, smell the pre-come weeping from his prick even if they couldn't see him from behind Greyback's massive body. He sank his teeth unyieldingly into his lip to stop another revolting whimpering gasp from escaping him.

An unbearable, elongated moment passed, and then another. Then suddenly Greyback's weight shifted behind him and a large hand slid under the fur and cloth between them to slide up Harry's torso. "Be still," Greyback growled warningly in his ear, putting all of his teeth into the words when Harry began to protest. The other hand snuck up to knot tightly in Harry's dark, sweaty locks, tugging his head back to rest against his shoulder and leaving his throat exposed to Greyback's hot breath

Harry's very core trembled. His breath came out in shaky pants and he slammed his eyes shut. He didn't want this. His muscles were tensed for a struggle for freedom even though his body was groaning for release. He felt like a line of elastic pulled taut to breaking point. This was no pleasure, this was torture!

Suddenly that mouth pressed over his marked throat and stayed there, the hand that had been knotted in his hair sliding forwards to cup his damp, furrowed brow. It felt oddly soothing. The touch even calmed the throbbing in his scar that had been constant for some time now. His previously screwed up eyes remained closed but relaxed, even if the heat did not ebb away. His throat was still dry and his body was still clenched in longing.

"Sleep," Greyback demanded again, and this time, with his greedy body's desires held at bay, Harry could not help but succumb to the exhaustion that tugged heartily at his consciousness.

"Sleep," that gruff growl murmured against his flesh once more, just under his ear. Harry felt his resolve slipping along with his awareness. He barely heard a final whisper of, "go to sleep, boy," before he drifted completely away from the itchy, stiflingly hot reality.

* * *

Fog and darkness had mated around him to form an impenetrable veil when he opened his eyes. He wondered how high up in the country they were as his consciousness slowly drifted back to him and he blinked blearily at the world. He thought vaguely of the highlands, of the moors and if they were anywhere near Hogwarts. But before he could even remember where he was and whose body was beside him, he became aware of the dreaded torture that had exhausted him into slumber a few hours ago…

It felt like hundreds of white-hot droplets of acid rain were beating down over his skin with relentless fury. His sweat was so icy cold in the chilly night that it burned as much as the imaginary burning downpour. His muscles were shaking with spasms in his body, making his bones, his very teeth chatter even though he was boiling hot. With a groan he threw the fur cloak off him, tugging frantically at his baggy shirt and trousers.

_Too hot! It was too hot!_

A low animalistic growl rumbled in his throat like the desperate grumble of a frustrated beast. He writhed and arched on his place beside Greyback, who remained blissfully asleep, though he did stir. Not that Harry had the presence of mind to care. Rolling onto his hands and knees, the growl turned into a mewl of desperation and he wriggled out of his shirt, throwing himself away from the warmth the dying fire and bodies surrounding it provided.

It was still too hot!

He was crawling now through the beautifully cool dirt, pressing his torso to the undergrowth to feel the blissful coolness that the dewy grass gave him. He almost purred, _almost_, as he squirmed out of his loose trousers, rolling in the dirt with an inhuman yip before tumbling into a nearby tree. Harry halted there on all fours, shaking himself off before laying back languidly in the grass.

The maddening heat had faded a little but something was not quite right. Harry raised his head and caught a brief glimpse of the moon peeking between the dark billows of cloud and fog. As woke more thoroughly, things began to seem clearer. He could see and smell and even _taste_ things better. He didn't feel as inconsolable with heat anymore but his body still ached.

Suddenly, a low, distinctly different growl whisked over him, making the hairs all along his neck stand on end. He closed his eyes and inhaled, lowering himself flat to the ground on his belly, where he kicked his arse up, swaying it slightly as if wagging a tail that wasn't really there. A husky, grumbling whine trickled over his lips. He didn't need to look up to know who it was standing over him.

_~To Be Continued..._


	3. With Blood Under the Moon

A/N: Just to let you know, while I do have probably 85-90 percent of this story already written on my laptop, I'm not updating once a week to 'get more reviews' as someone very uncharitably suggested. I'm uploading once a week as I have a really busy life and by updating you once a week, it gives me time to not only quickly proof-read the chapters you are reading but also finish writing the last chapters of the story so that when you catch up, you won't have to wait ages for an update. I write fast but I don't always get as much time as I like to write in. I used this technique while writing my other most recent story 'Sanguis Vita Est' and it worked. I'm doing well and by the time you guys catch up to where I am, all being well, I'll have the story finished so there will be no 'hiatus' or waiting ages for the finale.

So it will still be a weekly update, Friday evenings (UK time) everyone - I hope that's alright. I am flattered that you're so eager for more that 1 chapter isn't enough but I hope that you can accept why we're still on weekly updates and that the wait is worth it ^_^

On that note, please enjoy this next chapter and leave me a review to let me know what you think if you have a spare moment :)

**This chapter will be heavily censored as the original has a lot of smut in it. I've edited it here so you still get the story without the smut. If you want to read the full naughty version, follow one of the links on my profile. Enjoy! **

* * *

.: Chapter Three :.

With Blood Under the Moon

Greyback stood still as he struggled to contain himself at the sight laid before him, to hold back when all he wanted to do was lunge upon the creature practically screaming to be taken. He drew in a breath and grinded his teeth together hard. "The moon heat has definitely got a full hold on you," he said in a quiet growl as the boy shifted up on his knees to look at him properly.

Greyback was no stranger to this of course, had seen it many times but he had not been prepared for how his boy would look in the throes of the same passion every other wolf succumbed to. Another of those seductive, wanton growls summoned his attention fully to the creature on his knees before him. The boy was completely lost to the moon that was to come and the instincts that had been driven mad with lack of satisfaction. Potter's werewolf genes were driving now. Greyback could not help but feel his gaze wander painfully slowly down that flushed form, down that lean chest and taut stomach. Down further…

Greyback could not help but lick his lips, but managed to refrain from pouncing on the delectable creature before him. Seeing this lack of progress, the boy, now lost to the world gave another desperate whine before crawling forwards, his honey-hued flesh shining with sweat and the dew of the grass.

"You're mad with it, aren't you?" Greyback muttered as the boy came to stop at his feet. Those green eyes were shining and dilated, fixed on him all the while. It was infuriating. With a snarl, Greyback seized the boy's chin, tilting his head up further. In this state, the boy didn't seem to mind. On the contrary he gasped in delight, almost purring when Greyback's rough thumb skimmed his lower lip.

A pink tongue shot out to greet the digit, teeth taking advantage of Greyback's surprise to nip at his flesh provocatively. However reluctant, naïve and innocent his boy was, the wolf in him knew he, the submissive had the power here. He knew what he could do, what he _was_ doing to the most powerful and reputed werewolf in the country.

Abruptly Greyback shoved the boy back hard, sending him sprawling back in the grass. His own breathing was ragged and uneven. "You shouldn't test me if you want to keep hold of that cherry of yours," he grunted but the boy was squirming again now.

That desperate sound was back again, tumbling from those lips and the smell of arousal was so heady in the air that Greyback knew the others would be awaking to it soon. They would be opening their greedy eyes and turning them on his mate, disorientated and on the precipice of explosion. He lost it at that.

With an almighty snarl he seized the boy's discarded clothing and the fur cloak he had given him, striding past the boy a few feet and into the forest. "Follow me," he growled menacingly and even as lost as he was, Potter could not misunderstand that. Even a wolf mad with lust could not ignore it.

Potter groaned again, that inhuman whine of a growl and he scrambled after Fenrir, slamming into him in his haste to obey. Fenrir had wanted to move a bit further from the pack but with the ripe scent of heat rising from every pore of the boy's flesh was too much. They got only _just_ out of earshot before he threw the garments down beside the stream they had come across.

The moonlight shone brightly, dancing across each ripple like diamonds in the night as the fog began to clear. The grass swayed like Potter's hips had, beckoning them to the ground. "You're ripe and ready, aren't you?" Fenrir demanded of the boy, who didn't seem to be able to form words and merely stumbled the last few feet towards him.

Fenrir caught him before he could even touch him. He seized a handful of that mussed dark hair in one fist, yanking his head back roughly so that he could admire that expanse of white throat. He grazed that trembling adam's apple with his teeth.

"Hmmmm," Fenrir grumbled in animalistic approval. The near-full moon was high above them, hidden behind a veil of clouds and lingering mist but definitely still there. Though Fenrir tried to resist, knew that his mate would not appreciate this come morning, he was losing the battle against his instincts just as Potter had lost against his.

"I want you," he growled, punctuating his words by biting the edge of that jaw, that chin, those lips gently. "Every inch. I want you to be mine – _only mine_!"

Potter wriggled against him, gripping him so hard that his nails were digging into Fenrir's shoulders. Those eyes were closed now, that mouth parted only a hairsbreadth from his. He was panting and crying out in earnest, but that wasn't good enough, Fenrir needed words; verbal assent not even his capricious little wolf could deny later. He had wanted to court him longer, but his boy was too alluring for his own good. "Tell me what you want," he demanded.

The boy tossed his head and nodded frantically. His lips were working incoherent sounds from them, searching for speech.

"Words," Greyback growled again, biting tauntingly at the boy's chin until he groaned uncontrollably.

"Want it!" Potter called brokenly, his nails digging hard into him, his panting breaths dancing across Greyback's face. "Want you! M-Mate…! Mate me! Breed me!" That was all Fenrir needed in way of words. An assent he could _feel _in more ways than one. He dropped the boy to his shaky legs, leaving him to sway on his own feet.

The boy was completely running on instinct, need and deep-set longing – none of which he was likely aware of when his human mind was in control. He was getting what he truly needed and wanted for perhaps the first time in his life and was blind to all else. Fenrir wasn't far behind. He growled lowly, a sound caught between warning and lust. "You know what to do, don't you? You know how this works?"

A pink tongue darted out to wet those lips, an action Fenrir mimicked without thinking while he watched Potter nod eagerly, swaying forwards in an attempt to grab at him again. Fenrir seized him roughly, his claws scraping the pale skin on Potter's forearms just enough to make him gasp. "Then run for me, pet. Give my wolf a chase before he takes you."

Those emerald eyes widened impossibly, dark with lust. Potter whirled on his heel and sped out into the forest, away from the camp and disappearing between the trees. Or from sight at least. Fenrir could hear him, feel him and smell the potent scent of delicious heat Potter was leaving in his wake. He inhaled it deeply as it swept through him on the night breeze, drinking it in deeply before bolting after his prey.

The grass was firm but cool underfoot as he shot across it, the moonlight peeking through the gaps in the canopy overhead and streaking the forest with rays of light. His mate was running against the wind, the breeze blowing his scent back into Fenrir's nostrils. He shrugged off his clothes as he ran. Abandoning them, the fur and his mate's clothes to the forest floor – forgotten for now – and threw himself onto all fours, flying across the dirt after that delectable scent.

A great leap carried him into the air. His bones elongated and snapped, arching unnaturally as fur sprouted from his flesh and a muzzle from his skull. He was fully changed before he hit the ground, a silver wolf bounding through the trees. A long howl erupted from his maw where it hung open in excitement of the chase. It was a high, longing cry, a mating call telling all that the ritual chase had begun.

Panting now, his blue eyes caught a glimpse of moonlight reflecting off pale flesh. He howled again as tradition and bone-deep instincts demanded. The chase had blood pounding in his veins like an insatiable tide. Saliva built in his mouth at the taste of his mate's scent and he felt his insides singing along with his howling at the knowledge that he would join with his marked one soon.

_Chase me, chase me, _his little wolf called back to him without words and Fenrir forced his muscles to work harder, faster. With another leap he cleared the air straight over his intended's head, landing on all fours in front of him. He growled wantonly and watched his mate dodge to the side, narrowly avoiding slamming into him.

Harry had never felt so free in all his life. Free of worldly strife that he somehow remembered his life to be ripe with, free from inhibitions and embarrassment, filled only with his baser instincts and desires. Everything deep down inside himself that he had never indulged and always neglected. He forgot everything else.

He couldn't quite put a name to the woes that had been blasted away by that mating howl. The evening breeze rushed through his hair and licked at his naked flesh like the tongue of a lover. He knew somehow that he had led a troubled life full of despair, hardship and expectations. Now he was free, liberated to a state of blissful unaware. He leapt over the upturned tree-roots with glee, glancing over his shoulder without fear at the beautiful wolf pursuing him.

Silver fur rippled with the breeze and the movement of tight muscle. Blue eyes shone in the darkness and white fangs glistened. His alpha was displaying for him during this chase, courting him still, showing his power and worthiness. The wolf called for him again and he laughed. It was a human sound, but he remembered it well. He was at peace with the wolf and the human in him for now and was beaming with it, that thrill of bliss he somehow knew he had merely _tasted_ before.

The silver wolf was almost on him now. He could feel his hot breath against his back, his only warning before a cold nose butted against the base of his spine. He had been caught and with a grin he ran a few more steps, taunting the wolf who had stopped upon 'catching him'. Without stopping he could feel those azure eyes locked on him, watching every sinew of muscle move. They were rimmed with a golden glow.

Dropping suddenly onto all fours, Harry rolled onto his back and squirmed, impatient and waiting. The alpha had caught him and he was glad of it, he'd displayed deliciously but his surrender was on _his own_ terms. His eyes gleamed as he turned his head to watch the great wolf coming towards him, walking the additional few feet to him with minute irritation flickering in his eyes.

Fenrir Greyback had expected his mate to drop to his knees immediately on being caught, not carry on a few more feet in rebellion. But Harry had been determined to show him that he was full of just as much fire as him. Feisty and headstrong and in need of teaching some of the more wolfish lessons that his instincts alone could not.

Harry blinked with glazed eyes, staring down at that muzzle as the wolf bent his neck to sniff vigorously at him. Gasping aloud, Harry propped himself up on his elbows and tipped his head to look down at him, but daringly met his alpha's eyes. The wolf growled and when Harry didn't turn his head away, he raised his own completely, until he was towering completely over Harry.

Harry's eyes were wide and practically black his pupils were so dilated. He gave an inhuman croon of awe as the sparse moonlight danced across the wolf's dazzling silver fur, making it shine before his very eyes. He reached up, his fingers outstretched with longing to feel it ripple under his touch.

A growl stilled his movements. Harry answered the sound with a whine, still looking up into two blue/gold eyes that were glaringly bright in the darkness. After a moment, however, Harry realised what the alpha wanted and averted his gaze, reaching forwards again simultaneously. This time his fingers glided into velvety soft fur and he exhaled slowly. His eyes fluttered shut. It was like the last great weight had been lifted from him. Reaching out with his other hand he caressed the wolf's furry ears, ran the flat of his palm down across his flanks and then up his back, appreciating the strong, taut muscles there.

An almost purr told him that he could meet those eyes again now (this time with permission) and he immediately did so. He glanced quickly away again, however at the sight that met him. He shifted back out from under him, keeping his gaze averted.

Only mated couples trying to conceive mated like this and he was not. The notion of being taken by even his alpha in this form was abhorrent to him. This was not the way it was done. He winced at the thought and shifted back again, until he was standing with his back against an aged oak's trunk. Closing his eyes, he exposed his throat in silent apology.

The breeze swept across his skin as he stood there, naked as the day he was born and willing his alpha to understand the reason for his rejection. The leaves and twigs on the ground rustled with movement and Harry drew in a breath as he felt a thumb pressing on his chin, sweeping across his bottom lip.

"Not like that, not yet, pet," a familiar gruff voice breathed. Harry opened his eyes to see his alpha towering over him, but as a man now not a wolf. The blue gaze darkened, roving Harry's entire body with such intensity that Harry shivered with it. He couldn't remember at the moment but he was sure no one had ever looked at him like that.

As if reading his mind, his alpha's lips curved upwards a fraction into an almost smile. "And you've never been taken care of, provided for or had your needs become the sole focus of one person, have you?" he said gruffly, evidently not expecting an answer from his hazy-minded partner for he trailed the rough pad of his thumb over Harry's lip thoughtfully. His smirk broadened when Harry's mouth quivered under his intensity.

"Definitely a virgin," the Alpha mused aloud, before tugging Harry by his wrist toward the bank of the river running peacefully behind them. The moonlight cast stunning crystal-like glimmers across the surface. Greyback stopped him just a few feet a way, staring at him for a moment with silent hunger before slipping out of sight.

Harry began to turn to follow him with his eyes, but that gruff voice stopped him. "Be still if you want this, little wolf. The dominant wolf must lead his bitch in this ritual." Footsteps signalled the wolf's retreat but Harry stood as still as stone, not even moving his head to follow the lights dancing across the river before him. He couldn't remember much right then, he _knew_ even less but he did know he wanted this with all his being. For every reason Greyback had hinted at and more. They were desperate desires that his human conscious spent every day denying and fighting, but that did not erase the fact that he wanted it. All of him.

Sound from behind him signalled his alpha's return and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, goosebumps rose across his flesh but he forced himself to remain perfectly still. The familiar feeling of the fur cloak being draped over his shoulders slowly startled him at first and he turned his head a fraction to catch the broad werewolf's shadow in his peripheral vision.

"With the oath to shield, shelter and protect," Greyback said in his gruff, coarse voice, but when Harry reached up to catch the corners of the fur cloak and keep it around his shoulder, the wolf seized his wrist sharply. "Accept carefully," he warned gruffly, "this is a binding vow you cannot take back."

Harry tugged his hand free with an animalistic sound of need, clutching the fur around his shoulders tightly. Fenrir Greyback said nothing, merely stepping back, the previous mood settling back into the air between them.

"With an oath to honour and fight for my mate–" He came about to stand before Harry now and Harry was stunned to see deep claw marks gouged into that broad chest. Blood stained his alpha's chest hair and claws.

"-until there my last breath leaves me," Greyback finished gruffly, raising his bloody thumb and dragging it across Harry's forehead in an upwards horizontal arch. Harry's forehead tingled where he was painted with the blood but the scar on his forehead ached heavily, forebodingly. Further bloody arcs graced both cheeks, the flesh just above his navel and over his heart thanks to the artist brush of the werewolf's thumb, until at last the final crimson smear was dragged shapelessly across the mark at his throat.

Suddenly, Harry gasped. His body arched forwards with bullet-force, throwing him off his feet and into his alpha's chest. Every bloody mark was burning with fiery intensity just this side of painful. The lightning bolt scar throbbed and the mating mark at his throat grew so hot he wanted to claw at it. His heart was hammering in his chest. His breaths were coming out in uneven, manic pants.

"With an oath to provide in all things, in the name of our ancestors, initiated with blood under the moon," the wolf continued, gripping Harry tightly and holding him at arm's length. Those eyes were bright with unnameable emotion, so ferocious that Harry was unable to look away, not even when his body shook with spasms of near pain and overwhelming power not entirely his own.

"And sealed with the fluid of mutual pleasure," that husky voice concluded. Those hands released Harry and forced him to stand alone. He watched his naked alpha retreat back into the water until he was _just _out of arm's reach. The water rippled around the man's waist. "Do you accept me?" Fenrir Greyback asked darkly, his eyes shadowed with lust, want and danger.

Something had risen in Harry now, mixing with his magic and spiralling up inside him until it felt like a tornado burning in his throat. He didn't know words tonight, didn't even know his name but he knew what he felt. Both the human and the wolf knew. He had enough freedom from his human consciousness to make the decision based on needs and wants rather than expectations, upbringing and pride.

With only a moment of hesitation, Harry swept his arm back, letting the cloak slide off his shoulders and pool on the ground at his feet. He stepped forwards, the moonlight illuminating his skin as he reached out. Greyback took a step back out of his reach again, leaving Harry standing on the edge of the riverbank, the water lapping at his toes.

A desperate whining growl of distress left him, but the Alpha did not even blink. He was waiting, Harry realised. Struggling to find words that he _knew _he had learnt, many years ago. He felt his throat strain as if it had become incapable of human sounds. "Mate," he gasped out at last, yearning drawing out the single syllable. He knew the human reservations would fight it once they awoke again, but they would ebb with time. This was what he _needed_.

Inhaling deeply, he fought out the words he thought signified his assent. Fenrir Greyback had meant what he said, he wanted him willing only. "Yes," Harry panted, "_Want_." With that, his alpha seized him roughly by the scruff of his neck and waist both, yanking him off his feet and pulling Harry hard against him. The water splashed around them as he met his mate in the water and that mouth met his throat simultaneously. Yes, this was what he needed, his body was burning for it all over.

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"Bite me," Fenrir growled out, only just remembering. "You have to bite me to bind us, it's the final sealing of the ritual…" He was a bit breathless too, more than he'd like, but that thought was ripped from him as he felt the body above and around him tense. And not in pleasure.

Harry shoved himself up and off of the werewolf in one stumbling movement. His body burned as he tore away from him. He snarled aloud in agony and tumbled backwards on the bank where he scrambled to wrap the discarded fur cloak around him. A wince broke across his features as he felt thick liquid oozing from his arse – fluid he was certain wasn't blood. He could smell it, he could smell their sex in the air and it made him giddy with nausea. But worse than that, he could feel Greyback's presence in his mind now.

The connection was like an echo, a ghost of somebody else in his mind, not unlike the feeling of someone standing behind you. He couldn't read his thoughts but he certainly _felt _the beast's emotions. Lust and frustration all mixed together in post-coital bliss. It was stronger than before, everything was stronger.

Harry's limbs were quaking suddenly and not just with the cold licking at his sweat-dampened skin. "W-What – what did you do to me?" Harry demanded, wiping frantically at the smears of blood Greyback had painted on his skin. The werewolf stood and Harry scrambled back against the trunk of the nearest tree, the willow that's branches hung into the water nearby. "What did you do?!" he roared, his voice stronger now but still shaking.

Greyback frowned, his silver locks hanging damp just short of his shoulders. Harry's semen still painted his lightly furred torso and the sight of it, pearly white and glistening in the moonlight made Harry turn away in repulsion. It had felt like a haze of carefree obliviousness settling over him when the moon heat had taken over. He'd been aware and conscious but his body had made the decisions. Everything except his base instincts, the desire for food, comfort, protection and sex had filled him up until he was an inferno of need that only Greyback could sate. He had been aware through it all and what was worse…he'd _liked it!_

He shook his head frantically. Greyback must've done something to make him act like such a wanton bitch!

"Your hormones took over that's all, you sated them with me that's why you came back to yourself once we'd both squirted," Greyback said gruffly, staring down at him, his great body silhouetted against the pale moonlight. Harry winced at his grotesque wording and the way that the moon was illuminating all of his muscles in all their glory.

"You'll learn to control your heat with every moon," Greyback added, stopping a few inches in front of Harry. "It's nature, all werewolves go through this–"

"I'm not a werewolf!" Harry snapped, fighting the urge to leap up and smack the smirk from the brute's face. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing him naked and leaking with the bastard's spunk. "Everything I'm feeling now, it's only happening because you bloody bit me!"

"It's happening because one of your parents carried the dormant gene," Greyback corrected him, his voice gruff and harsh – cautionary. "Any wolf who bit you would have awoken it, it's something that was already inside you, something you inherited–"

"But if you'd never bitten me it would've remained dormant!" Harry insisted. "This is your fault! Why did you have to bloody bite me?"

"The same reason your instincts chose me to display to instead of the other wolves back there," Greyback growled, "You were the best, the superior choice – everything I need and want. That's how werewolves choose. We mate for life, after all..."

Harry winced, not only for the truth he sensed in the wolf's words but also the throbbing cramps that were beginning to ripple through his arse and stomach. _Fuck, it hurts. _He pulled the fur more tightly around him so that Greyback would not see him rubbing his aching stomach beneath it. It felt like his innards had been stretched and pounded into a complete new shape. It had felt good at the time, well…not good as such, _intense_ – nothing with Greyback could be considered good.

"It took me over," Harry murmured under his breath, "I didn't care about anything but…"

"Fucking the best stud?" Greyback finished for him, his voice full of arrogance. "That's heat for you, pet. It happens to us all. Humans get it too when they're in the zone. Don't make out you didn't enjoy it–"

"The fact that I enjoyed it was the bloody problem!" Harry hissed. "I don't want to be some alpha's bitch and squeeze your rotten spawn out of my body. I don't want this!"

"Part of you must do, pet," Greyback contradicted him huskily, his blue eyes shining darkly in the ethereal moonlight. The rim of gold that had shone within had completely vanished now. "Part of you longs for this, longs for a big strong alpha to protect and care for you, to breed you – or else your wolf wouldn't have chosen me."

Shock at the truth of that statement reverberated through Harry's blood like the vibrations of sound carrying through a cymbal. It cut him deeper than anything else Greyback had said because it was a truth he had been fearing since he had come to his senses. What if subconsciously he _did_ want what Greyback could offer, even if he didn't want Greyback himself? His instincts, the wolf inside him would have acted on that, wouldn't it? Protection, security, comfort, never to be hungry again – a family…

He'd always longed for all of those things since he was old enough to understand that they were what was missing from his life of neglect. The wolf in him didn't care that Harry's human consciousness didn't want to gain all of that this way, it simply acted and chose the best solution. The best choice of 'stud' just as Greyback had said.

Nausea and bile rose up in his throat then. His bruised stomach lurched and he threw himself hands first onto his hands and knees, vomiting up the contents of his stomach onto the dewy grass. He wretched and choked until it felt like his battered insides were in knots. His body shook uncontrollably. He had done this to himself with his own pitiful desires. His childhood longings had brought him here, bound to Greyback for the rest of his life.

Greyback was still watching him, had not moved even when the fur had dropped from Harry's shoulders. But when Harry collapsed onto his side next to his own vomit, the Alpha leant down. Harry did not even cringe, he was too exhausted to in every way possible. He did wince however, when an inhuman sound of pain skittered over his lips unbidden. It sounded horribly like a whine.

The werewolf pulled the fur back over him and rolled him onto his other side, letting him lay down away from his sick. Then he stood. "You'll get used to all of this," Greyback said gruffly, "it can hardly be so bloody awful can it? To finally have what you've always secretly longed for?"

Harry didn't answer. He closed his eyes, wishing it would all go away, wishing it would all end…

Then it hit him. A lightning bolt pierced his misery like a dagger through his vulnerable flesh. He couldn't just roll over and die, he _wouldn't_! There were people depending on him, people he loved. This was just one more obstacle to overcome. If he could kill a basilisk at twelve years old, he could escape a werewolf. He lay perfectly still as Greyback sat down on the edge of the bank a few feet from him.

Despite the fact that his connection to Greyback was shielding his mind from Voldemort, he was still out there and so were his horcruxes. He, Harry still had a job to do. _And when it's over, I can still have everything my instincts think they can only get from Greyback; comfort, a family. Except with someone that I choose, someone I love, _his mind whispered conspiratorially, as he contemplated his escape tomorrow under the cover of the full moon.

Suddenly. Greyback's coarse, bark of a voice sliced through his reverie. "You need to bite me," he said simply, "mark me as yours to seal our bond."

Harry opened his eyes and saw Greyback watching him from across the dark grass, the reflections of moonlight off the water dancing over his body. "And why would I do that? I don't _want _you." At this, Greyback growled warningly. Harry sneered, his fire returning to his voice a little despite his throbbing stomach and arse. "Oh, sorry did I offend you? It's the truth, _Greyback,_"

"Our bodies will pine for the completion. It's up to you if you want to suffer just because you're too much of a coward to admit your own desires," Greyback snapped in response. "You want me, pet. You can't lie to me."

Harry grit his teeth. _Just until tomorrow night, just until tomorrow night, _he reminded himself firmly. "Don't call me _pet_," Harry warned, forcing himself to think of his freedom tomorrow to ground him in place. He couldn't beat Greyback without a wand, not even with werewolf blood coursing through him. The only chance was to escape him tomorrow, under the cover of the full moon, which even now he could feel _buzzing _through his veins.

The next morning it was the deep ache in his belly and arse that awoke him. He must have just rolled over, for the pain jerked him awake. He groaned in agony and opened his eyes only to see the sunlight filtered by a thick veil of fur. Pushing off the fur, he winced as he sat up, the cloak falling uselessly to his lap. That unnerving _hot _feeling had returned – he felt quite giddy again, though nowhere near as bad as yesterday. He was stark naked beneath the fur cloak still and there was no sign of Greyback except the dying fire nearby and the food that lay cooling and cooked on a clean slate of rock beside it.

_And the fact that he pulled the fur over your head so you wouldn't be woken up by the sun, _a niggling, infuriating voice whispered at the back of his mind.

_So he could suffocate me more like, _Harry bit back, taking a final glance around to ensure he was alone before staggering out from under the cover of the blanket. His sore belly was roiling now with lack of sustenance. He didn't so much as hesitate before plonking himself down on the riverbank and attacking the skinned, gutted and deboned fish with relish.

At first he'd thought it looked a little raw for his taste but it tasted perfect. The flavour burst in his mouth like nothing before, his superior werewolf taste-buds delighting in every bite. He could feel everything better, see everything clearer than before. An experiment of taking off his glasses left him disappointed that he still needed them to see perfectly, but nowhere near as badly as he'd needed them before.

He was glad Hermione had charmed the lenses to adapt to his ever-changing eyesight years ago…

Slipping his glasses back on, he chugged down the rest of the fish and instantly wrinkled his nose. The clearing reeked of sex. _He _reeked of sex, of blood and come and… He could still feel Greyback's spendings, dried and uncomfortable between his arse cheeks. He had to wash it off! Wash every last inch of Fenrir Greyback off his skin. His stomach churned warningly, still aching and not appreciating the speed in which he had gulped down his breakfast – nor the haste in which he leapt to his feet. Without pause he dropped into the chilly water of the stream, the coldness hitting him like an icy punch, a sharp lash of steel against his sore arse and aching belly.

Harry shivered, but didn't stop. He ducked down in the water, submerging himself until he was holding his breath beneath the water. He surfaced and then repeated the action, again and again until he was gasping for air and scrubbing his skin raw with his hands.

With a hiss of pain, Harry rubbed between his legs, gingerly scrubbing the dried fluids from his arse. It stung, but the pain only hardened his resolve to cleanse himself of last night as much as possible. When the moon came up tonight, he would leave this all behind him. It would remain a forgotten nightmare and nothing more. He would go on as if nothing had changed.

But then finally, a rogue thought stopped him. He _was _changed. He was part wolf now, or at least it had awoken. Would he be able to hide that from Hermione and Ron? From _Remus_? Suddenly, he realised with an odd numbness that he was also no longer a virgin anymore. He stared unseeingly out across the still water. Mist still lapped at the edge of the clearing so that the boundary line of the trees was barely visible.

He caressed his sore crack with his index finger and winced. Yes, he was definitely not a virgin anymore. It almost felt as if Greyback's monster of a cock was still in there, like an echo. He flushed darkly despite himself. He had no idea how that had fit inside him. It was monstrous!

Without thinking, his free hand passed over the mark over his throat and then down his body, skimming his chest and stomach, his flaccid prick that had been hard and _drooling _in the fist of Fenrir Greyback only hours before. He could still feel the ghost of that brash, demanding and unyielding touch all over him. Was that because they were bonded? Mated?

_I came all over him, whining and howling like an animal, _he recalled with disdain, his belly churning more ferociously but his prick twitching at the memory. The filling of his arse had definitely not been good – intense, overwhelming yes. But the pressure around his cock, the feel of coarse, large fingers playing his most sensitive place… He gasped. There was no way in hell he could honestly say that felt bad.

He flushed as his fingers unwittingly traced the places that still throbbed with Greyback's touch.

"Hmmm, the smell – I'd heard of it but I never knew it would make my mouth _water_!"

Harry whirled around at the sound of that voice. Flying back from the river's edge, he saw the twins from yesterday, Canagan and Caleb eyeing him hungrily from the bank. "Get the fuck away from me!" Harry snarled, sliding backwards in the water as they stepped closer. They were on the edge of the bank now.

"Fiesty," Caleb growled, leaning down on the bank to bring their eyes level now. His own gaze was dark and wanting, as if overcome in the same way Harry had been last night. They were not part of Greyback's pack, they would have no qualms about taking him despite the smell of claiming hanging thick in the air. If they deemed him worth fighting Greyback over. Hadn't Greyback said their bond was not final, after all?

_They smelled me touching myself, _he realised, his cheeks colouring despite himself. The twins leered at him.

"That's it baby," purred Canagan, who was kneeling also now. "Come over here and we'll let you choose which one of us you can have first…"

The heat that had been buzzing through him since he awoke was surging up in his head now, making him stumble in the water. His body was hot and still unclaimed. His alpha had gone somewhere… Was he abandoned? The bond wasn't complete, he still felt empty, vulnerable. He couldn't bear it.

Suddenly, two hands seized his arms, hauling him out of the water and laying him out flat on the riverbank underneath the twins that now hovered above him. "Or would you like us both at once?" Caleb asked, his humid breath dancing across Harry's skin as he pinned Harry's arms above his head on the damp grass.

Harry squirmed. He was too hot, too dizzy with need. His body was ready for breeding, he needed to be fully mated to conceive tonight. He needed to be taken. Thrusting his hips up, Harry made a pining sound, throwing his head to the side and arching his neck back wantonly. He felt so confused. His alpha was gone? He'd abandoned him when he'd needed him most?

Harry's instincts vibrated through his bones. Had he displeased his alpha? Is that why he'd left? The moon was so close and he was shaking with desperation now. "Need…_need_," he tried to say, his mouth suddenly dry, his belly still aching and twisting with each movement he made.

"Hush poppet," Canagan growled, his fingers trailing down Harry's front appreciatively. His palm rested over Harry's stomach, the pressure making Harry wince. The hand didn't retract. "You'd look so good with your belly full – that's what you want, isn't it? That's the whole point of your existence?"

Harry rolled his head on his neck and stared up at the identical wolves above him. They were not his alpha, not his choice and they would have to prove themselves if they wished to replace him. He squirmed again, trying to free himself but the hand on his belly pressed harder, making him cry out and fall still. The other twin's hands pushed down on his wrists.

This time Harry growled. He kicked and struggled and when one of them dipped their auburn heads to taste the unmarked side of his throat he snapped at them, his teeth bared. This wasn't right, they hadn't proven themselves – he hadn't chosen them! An agonised howl left his lips then and he threw his head up, slamming it hard into Caleb's so that the wolf instinctively let go of his wrists.

Kicking Canagan away from him, Harry rolled onto his hands and knees and scrambled away. A vice-like grip seized his ankle and without thinking he seized a fist full of dirt and threw it into his assailant's face. A hard _smack _cracked across his face in answer, sending his head snapping to the side.

Pain spread across his jaw like white-hot fire through the undergrowth. He fell back hard into the ground, stunned from the blow. They were stronger than he was physically and for a moment he couldn't move.

"Play nice, bitch if you want us to treat you right," Caleb murmured, seizing Harry's knees where they lay, pressed together and pulled tight up to his body in a final defence. Little lights had burst behind Harry's eyes at that strike. He felt dizzy but still fought the hands urging his legs apart.

"Come on," Canagan grunted, seizing Harry's chin and turning him roughly to face him, his thumb digging into the bruise beginning to form on his tender cheek. "Nice little bitches get their bellies filled. You're ripe for it. Wolves mate for life but once you're mated you can turn any stud's seed into a litter." He leered down at Harry, his free hand caressing his belly again. "You just need the bond to tell your body to make the right reactions, after that you're anyone's game no matter what _tradition _says and Fenrir _Alpha _Greyback isn't here to stop me, is he?"

Caleb chuckled, shoving Harry's thighs brutally apart and staring down at his flagging penis in delight. But just as he reached down Harry threw all of his strength into his leg and kicked the wolf hard in the crotch. The beast howled and rolled back while his twin shoved Harry roughly back into the dirt when he tried to flee. The fist that had struck him once before rose again, soaring down towards his still throbbing face.

A sickening crack filled the air. A howl of pain followed it and Harry winced, staying perfectly still as he stared up at the terrifying sight of Fenrir Greyback. Those lips were drawn back over his teeth in a snarl, eyes gold and flecked with rage. His fingers were digging hard into Canagan's hand, twisting the limb back at an unnatural angle until his wrist visibly snapped. It hung uselessly when Greyback released it and the red-head stumbled back, screaming and cradling his broken wrist.

"I thought even mongrels like you would know a claiming circle when you smelled one," Greyback growled dangerously, his otherworldly eyes fixed on the twins as they slowly rose upwards. He snarled warningly and they remained on their knees. "I laid one so thick around here that even runts like you could smell!" He glanced down at Harry then, who lay frozen still.

His alpha was angry, furious in fact but his body language, his offensive stance was not aimed at him. Slowly, cautiously he rolled onto the balls of his feet, staring up at Greyback to gauge his reaction. The wolf was watching him unyieldingly. So he hadn't abandoned him after all, he had left him with a protective claim around the area – the kind he knew (somehow) that subs couldn't smell.

Determined to show his contrition for how he had behaved after their mating last night (which he only vaguely recalled in his hazy state) he rocked forward until he was pressed against Greyback's leg. He whined softly when Greyback didn't respond and rolled his hips in desperate gyrations against that softly haired leg. He was humping his leg urgently, trying to express his need as words had evaded him. Still Greyback didn't move, didn't accept him.

Desperate now to keep his alpha that he had so offended, Harry dropped himself onto all fours in front of him, pressing his chest to the ground, his arse up in the air – inviting. At last he heard Greyback move behind him and he swayed his hips a fraction in answer, but those hands merely seized him roughly, tossing him back onto his arse and throwing his discarded clothes at him from the night before.

"Not for their eyes," Greyback snarled before turning back to the twins once more. "I'll kill you for touching him–"

"He was hardly saying no until the end," Caleb hissed as his brother continued to whimper in pain under his breath. "And the bond is incomplete – I can smell it, maybe he _wants _a little variation."

Suddenly Greyback's stance tightened, his muscles bunched as if poised to launch him into battle. He growled ominously again. _He wasn't in a position to refuse with his first heat burning inside him like that,_ Greyback thought, but instead said aloud, "It doesn't matter what he wants. He's mine, he chose me last night and I'll be all his body ever knows until the day he dies. The mating bond is for life–"

"And just who said you get to keep the one breeder left alive in probably the whole country?" Canagan hissed through clenched fangs, still clutching his distorted wrist. "Why should you be the only one to beget live young? You claimed him for yourself without giving anyone else a chance to stake a claim!"

Fenrir surged forwards, so that he was standing directly in front of his two adversaries. "He chose me out of all your lot last night–"

"There are other werewolves out there who will fight you for the rights to breed him," Caleb murmured, "I'll fight you for him right now!"

Greyback scoffed. "With no one to see you fall?" he shook his head and made his way back over to Harry without a second glance back at them. Harry hadn't taken his eyes off him and now he was kneeling before him, Harry stared up at him like a patient puppy waiting for recognition. He was dressed again, Fenrir noticed and wrapped in his fur cloak. He smirked. Unconsciously, the boy seemed to like the comfort it offered.

He gripped his mate's chin then, turning his head a fraction to better see the bruise forming over his cheek. He frowned and grit his teeth. "Bring them all, spread the word that I've claimed him as mine and bring anyone who'll challenge me. I'll tear you all apart and lay your heads at his feet as a mating gift." He leant in then, swiping at the boy's wounded cheek with his tongue. The chin in his grasp tensed but did not pull away. He licked again, and again until he felt the bruise begin to fade away before it had chance to fully bloom.

When he drew back, the blemish was gone and the boy was still watching him. "Don't wait too long to return though," Fenrir said to the twins, turning to face them again, "I still have to finish paying you back for touching my sub." With that he scooped a fully dressed boy into his arms, cloak and all and walked calmly out of the clearing, into the mist.

Harry was rubbing at himself frantically, his breath coming out in hot pants against Fenrir's neck. "I know," Fenrir growled under his breath. He could feel the boy's need rolling off him in waves. The moon was introducing herself to his mate with unconquerable fervour. "Hold still for a bit longer and I'll satisfy you," he promised, voice husky.

"Y-You…_swore_…" the boy managed out his words slightly strangled with desire and instinct.

"And I don't break my promises, pet," Fenrir said, and with a final cursory sniff of the air that ensured they were out of earshot of the vile twins, he broke into a run. His resolve not to throw the boy down on the leaves and take him was crumbling at the sweet, hot aroma rising up his nostrils with every squirm the body in his arms made. The forest floor was not an option tonight, he needed to get the boy safely out of the way for his first full moon at least.

_He's still too insolent and headstrong, he'll get himself hurt by refusing to submit when he needs to if I meet him as a wolf under the full moon. _The full moon stole the mind of even the most practiced wolf. It was unavoidable, they were ruled for the night purely by instinct. And since the boy's instincts hadn't had chance to bloom fully yet, he wouldn't have the instinctual knowledge of how to react to him.

_He won't know how to submit to a riled up wolf with no conscience. How to act or respond, _Fenrir thought as the boy nuzzled into his chest urgently, palming his arousal through his clothes, unaware of anything except the need to rut and breed in his 'moon heat' daze. _He's sure to get himself hurt if he crosses my path tonight, mate or no mate…_

_~To Be Continued..._


	4. Run Rabbit Run

Author's Note:

Just to let you know, the names featured in this chapter are pronounced thusly (some people's experiences of the name may vary however depending on their location/accent):

Shae: is pronounced 'shay' - sh [as in 'ship'] and ai [as in 'pain']

Eithne: is pronounced 'eth-nih' - eth [as in 'ethnic'] and ni [as in 'nib']

Thank you for enjoying my story so far. Please leave me a comment if you can spare a moment to let me know how you're enjoying it :)

* * *

.: Chapter Four :.

Run Rabbit Run

Greyback grit his teeth as the sweet perfume of the boy's arousal threatened to rob him of his senses. Potter's face was flushed and his breath was still dancing across Fenrir's collarbone with maddening fervour. _Just a bit longer, _Fenrir told himself sternly as he took longer, faster strides to his destination.

The village of Shae, a place he knew well was bustling cheerily with the early afternoon tasks. No one even turned as he walked through the grey stone path towards the modest stone house he knew just as well. The roof of each old English building was slate grey, built with shallow gradients to cover the quant single story homes.

Once on the outskirt of the modest market, he moved into the arched doorway of one of the larger homes and without knocking, stepped inside. "Eithne, it's me!" he called gruffly, bypassing the cosy living area that housed (among other cosy necessities) a large solid wooden table and matching chairs. A cauldron was bubbling within an inglenook fireplace, carved from the same cobblestone as the rest of the village. He pushed open a door at the far side and walked into a deserted bedroom, where he dropped his charge unceremoniously onto the fur-lined bed and turned to see Eithne standing in the doorway.

She was a slender, elegant looking old woman with shining silver hair pulled up off her neck in tight curls. Although she was in no way youthful any longer, she was still beautiful in her own right and in no way weak. Her ice-blue eyes glistened vibrantly in the sunlight streaming in through the large window.

"Cutting your visit fine are you not?" she asked with dulcet tones, scanning him up and down with those wily azure orbs. "Or do you claim that the great Alpha Fenrir Greyback is above remembering the moon cycle now?"

Before he could even open his mouth to answer, she spied the young body on the bed, writhing, twisting and coiling in on itself as if in pain. Her eyes widened.

"You've bitten him!" she accused, "so close to the moon? You…you–"

"As if I'd do such a spiteful thing," he snarled at her. "You've started to listen to the tripe they say about me, eh? And I thought you wiser than that." He glared at her before crossing the room, pulling back the boy's cloak to expose the iridescent pink mark at his throat. "He's like my mother, he carries the blood in his veins. He's mine."

The old woman stepped closer. Ignoring the low, instinctually possessive growl Fenrir offered as she drew near, she rested the back of her hand against the boy's forehead. The way she glanced to the now unmistakeable movement of his hands over his groin told Fenrir she knew what ailed Potter now.

"Moon heat," she said, stepping back from him. "His first?"

Fenrir nodded, irritation prickling through his skin. His patience, his mood was tense with the moon heat burning through him, biting and gnawing at him with every desire and emotion heightened to the extreme. He wanted to shove her aside and slam balls deep into his boy to satisfy his cries of need. He wanted, he _needed_…

But he was in control of all of that. He was the alpha. He needed to be.

"His instincts haven't…_bloomed _enough yet. He's not ready to see me during a full moon. He'll stay here with you, but in this room," he paused then, glancing between his mate and the old woman. "I think you know why it's so important that he doesn't leave this room until I collect him at dawn."

Eithne looked over the boy a final time before giving him, Fenrir the smallest infraction of a nod. With this, Fenrir crossed the room, shrugging off the shirt he had only attained that morning along with his trousers. Eithne didn't so much as blush, on the contrary she moved forwards and snatched up his dirty clothes, holding her arm out to him impatiently. "Give me those rags the boy is wearing. They're filthy. Not fit for a stray mongrel," she snapped.

Fenrir leant down, completely unconcerned about his nakedness and opened the fur cloak to reveal his mate's desperate writhing body beneath. Sweat permeated his flesh so profusely that his clothes clung to him with it, his perfect pinkish nipples erect and visible through the white shirt. When Fenrir's hands moved to his shirt collar to begin to undress him, the boy turned his head towards him dazedly.

A desperate, whimpering groan left those flushed lips. Those impossibly green eyes were shining wetly with desire. His lips worried Fenrir's knuckles desperately, teeth grazing the flesh as his hands shot up to Fenrir's, gripping his wrists and trying to tug them down flat to his body with urgency. "T-Touch!" The boy gasped out, his voice not his own. "Fuck – breed – take–!"

"Be still!" Fenrir snarled, shoving Potter's hands to the bed. "You stink of them. I want these clothes off you!" His tone made Potter still, made him turn his head to bare his throat in submission. Fenrir growled lowly in the back of his throat. _Yes_, he thought, _he's learning it quick. By next full moon he will be ready to share it with me as he was born to…_

"You have courted him in the traditional manner," Eithne said. Her calm voice cut through the atmosphere of the room which was swiftly becoming so intense that Fenrir was finding it hard to breathe in _anything_ but the boy and his need.

"You awoke the werewolf in him?" she asked. Fenrir said nothing but as always she seemed to know the answer without him giving it aloud. "And he chose you?"

"He was…_reserved_ about it when he woke up with his human senses in tact," Fenrir began in a tone of indifference. Eithne nodded.

"Common for those not awoken when they are younger. He needs time to accept the other half of himself, they all do," she said before snatching up the boy's clothes that Fenrir had quickly stripped off the suddenly very still body on the bed. She strode across the room and looked back at him from the doorway, an odd look on her pale, wrinkled face. "I realise that your very nature makes it difficult, but try to be patient with him. He needs time to adjust to everything that is changing inside of him."

Fenrir grunted, frustrated, still angry and impossibly aroused. He was not interested in a lecture of patience from the village's matriarch. Suddenly the patience of the boy on the bed seemed to vanish too and another animalistic whine burst from his lips. His hands stayed where Fenrir had thrown them but that body squirmed, those eyes burning, pleading as they gazed up him.

With his body rigid with the effort of holding back, Fenrir watched him, unmoving, as still as stone. The boy cried again and slid up onto his knees, apparently unaware of the third body in the room as he threw himself forward onto his belly, pulling his knees tightly under himself and exposing his raised arse.

The sound of a door closing cut through the sound of the boy's panting and Fenrir turned to see that at last Eithne had taken her leave and closed the door behind her. _At long bloody last, _Fenrir thought scathingly of the old, interfering know-it-all trout. His boy was shaking all over now, his body flushed all over and another troubled sound came from him.

Cursing under his breath, Fenrir slid onto the bed behind the smaller body. That dark head was turned to the side now so that Fenrir could see his flustered, desperate expression perfectly. But it was just as pitiable as it was arousing.

Being denied release during moon heat was nothing short of torture.

"Y-You…_swore_…" Potter panted then.

"And I don't break my promises, certainly not to my mate," Fenrir answered. "You'll ride me until the moon signals her approach, pet. And then you'll sleep here, wait for me until I come get you at dawn. You're not to leave this room. Understand?"

That tone was inarguable, with no room to manoeuvre and Harry nodded frantically, willing to do anything his alpha wanted, to be a good mate, to please the man below him. To take his essence inside him…

*****CENSORED. FOR FULL VERSION PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE*****

Fenrir Greyback lay down over him. Their bodies were touching but Fenrir's arms resting either side of Harry's head kept his full weight off of him. They were both panting for breath.

Harry gasped for air and relaxed into the tremors shaking him. He felt every ounce of tension dwindle from his limbs and heard the moon whisper that he had time to rest before she rose, before she called them together again to consummate their union.

He liked this thoughtless feeling, the lack of knowledge of everything happening in the world outside. He was safe here under his mate's heat, protected and able to rest without planning for the next moment, the next battle. His life had been that before the wolf in him had awoken hadn't it? He wasn't sure. But he was sure that he was tired and that he couldn't see any reason not to allow slumber to take him for a while. His alpha would protect him while he slept.

Fenrir's breathing evened out. He groaned softly as he lifted completely off his mate to stare down at him. The boy was asleep. He was painted and reeking of their combined essence, his face young and unlined, peaceful in slumber. _It'll be easier if he continues to sleep,_ Fenrir thought, easing himself off the bed so as not to wake the boy. He wiped their joint fluids off of that lithe body lightly, ensuring he would leave the scent behind. It would be best if the boy smelled of him as much as possible, especially for tonight, despite the fact that he wouldn't be joining him this time. Or leaving the room. It was imperative that neither happen tonight. _He's not ready,_ Fenrir thought. After _that _he would likely sleep through most of the night.

The boy squirmed happily in his sleep, rolling over and nuzzling into the fur that Fenrir folded over him, lest the air cast a chill over his still sweat-slicked skin. He looked helpless like this, except he wasn't and for some reason Fenrir liked that. He liked the inner strength it had taken for the boy to withstand weeks of torture at the Dark Lord's hand. He admired his pride and the stubbornness that matched his own so perfectly.

He almost couldn't wait for the frenzy of the moon heat to die so that he could experience just how wilful he was first hand.

A prickle of awareness caressed his sweaty skin and he turned his head to the window, following the call over to it. It looked out onto a quiet garden filled with various vegetables and herbs he knew Eithne grew herself but it was the sky that his eyes fixed on. The day was waning, the moon was calling him. He cast a final glance back at the boy on the bed and closed the shutters against the moon's summons. It wouldn't be long now.

* * *

It was a swell of static electricity coursing down his spine that jerked Harry awake. He stared around dazedly at the dark room, trying to bring his eyes back into focus. The room reeked of sweat and sex, of musky bodies and it took him a while to adjust to the dimness, enough to finally make out that he was in a bedroom he had never seen before – all alone.

Except he _had _seen it before. Oh Merlin…

He was on a bed that looked rumpled. A few sparse pieces of furniture of no particular interest were dotted around the room. The only door was shut and the grand double windows at the side were sealed by great wooden shutters. Pale light crept in through the slats in the shutters and he froze as his green gaze locked on the ethereal glow. The static sensation prickled all along his spine again as he looked on it. Every hair on his body stood on end. Slowly he got to his feet, as if drawn by some otherworldly power, lured into a trance.

Crossing the room, he laid his hands on the shutters, feeling the moonlight cool and powerful against his skin. He bathed in the diminutive light a moment, his entire body thrumming and he closed his eyes, breathing in the smells that filled the room. His fingers tensed on the shutters, preparing to throw them open and expose himself to the moon's light, but no sooner had the muscles in his arms tensed, than the door opened, breaking his trance.

Harry flew to the bed, seizing the fur cloak there and wrapping it around him. He remembered now, remembered the moon heat taking him over in the pool, remembered being set upon by the twins and brought here by Greyback. He even vaguely recalled this woman but the image of what he had done and said and _felt _in this room with Greyback afterwards was most prominently burned into his mind.

Bile rose in his throat at the memory of the noises he had made, but his chest tightened on recalling how it had felt. So…_good_?! He grit his teeth, trying to justify what he had felt, blame it on some outward source, on the moon heat – _anything_. But something inside him (perhaps his slowly awakening instincts) reminded him that all the heat, the moon did was eradicate his human inhibitions. That was why werewolves did nothing but kill, eat, fuck and sleep during the full moon after all. It took away anything that stopped you from concentrating on your most basic needs.

_On some level, I wanted this, _he thought with horror, wincing at the thought, grinding his teeth together _hard_. The elderly woman stepped into the room, a bundle of cloth under one arm and a tray in the opposite hand. She gave him a cursory glance before dropping the bundle onto the bed. "Clean clothes. I've tossed away those filthy things you were wearing, they didn't fit you anyway. I've adjusted these for you so they should be fine."

A small round tray was laid beside the cloth and she looked at him again, studying him more closely this time as she said, "Bread and honey. You need sugar in you at this time of the month. But it's not good for you to have anything too trying on the stomach before sleep."

Harry's brow furrowed with disbelief. "Sleep?" he repeated. "I just woke up after being…" He grit his teeth, swallowing what he had been about to say. "I'm not going to sleep. I'm sorry, I know you're probably only trying to help but I have to get out of here."

The old woman pushed the tray towards him without acknowledging he had spoken. "I could hear your stomach from the other room while you slept," she said and Harry finally looked properly at the food. Whether it was his instincts or simply his stomach seizing control of his actions from hunger, he snatched up the bread and was downing the final slice before he had truly realised what he was doing. There was some milk there in a goblet too, which he gulped down before setting it back empty on the tray.

It was only when he was empty handed again that he realised he had acted without pause, without even considering that he didn't know this woman or if she had poisoned the food or not. Instinctively his hand went to his throat. He was imagining the last of that milk burning as it went down. As if she had sensed his thoughts, the old woman smiled softly.

"Even if I wanted to hurt you, young one, your mate would have ripped me to shreds if I did so. And he would never have left me charge of something so precious if I were not trustworthy."

Harry winced. There was that word again, _'precious'. _He wanted to feel that way, to be most precious to someone as (having no parents or real lovers) he had never been to anyone in his entire life. He wanted it yes, maybe even needed it on some basic level. But he did _not _want to be Fenrir Greyback's _anything_! Much less _precious!_

"This is ridiculous," he said at last, without really meaning to say it aloud. That static prickling was addling his brain now. Sweat had started to break out across his skin and it felt a little harder than usual to draw in each breath and keep it there. The moon was singing softly behind the shutters without actually making a noise, simply using the sounds of the world. The wind, the trees, the grass, the animals in the distance, even the breath in his lungs and his own heartbeat thudded together in a low, whispering hum.

Harry felt claustrophobic in this room, in this building. He had to get out. _Because I have to escape Greyback, _he told himself firmly, ignoring the desire burning in his belly to seek the beast out. The rut he'd unwittingly and yet _willingly_ shared with Greyback earlier had sated his urges enough for his mind to take control once more.

"I don't belong to him, I don't belong _with _him," he murmured under his breath. He pulled on the brown trousers, soft-leather shoes and dark green shirt which was still loose but clung more to his form that before. The woman didn't say anything, just watched him as he dressed, but the moment he moved towards the door, she stood in his path.

Harry grit his teeth so hard he swore he heard them creak ominously. "I can admit that this…_wolf blood_ in me is inherited, is part of who I am but _he _still bit me against my will. He ruined my life – made a life-changing decision for me without my input. Whatever his 'reasons' he made a decision that's changed me forever and I've bloody had enough of that. I've had enough of losing control of myself around him because of this 'recessive gene' that could have remained dormant if he'd left well enough alone!"

The woman watched him thoughtfully. "Everything happens for a reason, my boy–"

"Yes and _this _all happened because Fenrir Greyback saw me and thought I'd make a good baby factory!" he snarled bitterly. "But whatever he thought, whatever my _instincts _make me do I'll kill anything of his before I let it grow inside me and change me into something I'm not." He was seething. He was suffocating. His body was near shaking with the need to escape. Escape everything and run – _fly. _Oh, how he missed his broom…

"The instincts make you do nothing, young one. The decisions you make when they come to the forefront of your mind are still your own. They are still your human heart's decisions, just without the influence of jaded, human misconceptions and prejudices."

Harry gave a hollow laugh. "I've heard that, I _know _that. It just makes me all the more infuriated with this whole situation!"

The woman raised a silvery brow. "Infuriated because this is a sparkling opportunity to take what you have always dreamed of – always wanted, _needed _but your human misgivings say you shouldn't find it here? Not with someone like Fenrir Greyback? Is that just because it is him, because of what he did or perhaps because you do not feel you deserve it?"

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "You're either stark raving mad, or just not listening. I don't _want _to be here and I'm sick of being forced to do things I don't want to. I won't sit tight and wait for the return of an arsehole that wants to use me and control me. He's fucked up my life enough already."

With that he stormed forwards. But the woman did not move. He paused, closing his eyes to rein in his temper. He needed to get out! "I don't want to hurt you," he murmured under his breath, which was coming out in sharp, short pants now. "But I _am _going to leave and I _will_ get past you. Please move aside."

The woman still did not move. "It is dangerous for you to leave the safety of the village while the full moon reigns, boy," she warned him. "Fenrir and his pack helped us to set up a parameter to keep all unwanted visitors out of the village. Other wolves and magical beasts included. The protections are superior to that of even charms such as the _Fidelius, _but if you leave here tonight you will stumble across one of those rogue wolves for certain!" She gripped his shoulders tightly. "You will be raped or killed or worse, boy! I cannot allow you to go out there!"

Harry shoved her aside, regret tingeing his mind as he pushed past her and made a beeline for the front door. "Raped by Greyback, raped by one of them – there's no difference. I'm not going to be a werewolf's bitch. Even if I didn't have a job to do, I still wouldn't stay!" He heard her calling after him, heard her running across the wooden floor, swiping at the air in desperate attempts to catch hold of him but he was faster now. Faster than before and definitely faster than her (even if she was quick for an old woman). He threw open the door and bolted out into the night.

The second the moonlight touched his face, every inch of exposed flesh, he felt heat spread through him. His heart was thudding wildly, his blood thick with adrenaline and he did not stop. He flew through the village, ignoring the cries of the woman and anyone else that he bypassed. All of them tried in vain to grab him, to stop him but he was far too quick.

He could feel the wolf in him surging. He was faster, stronger, his sight was keener and he could see every blade of grass illuminated by the pale glow of the moon. A thrill of freedom rushed through him as he ran and he grinned despite himself at the exhilaration of it. The border of the village was in sight, the last building and a small stone well marking the boundary. It was feet away now. He was closer. _Closer_.

He was free. He'd bolted clean out of their range, into the forest and didn't need to glance back to know they had followed no further. He was free!

The darkness of the trees was nothing to his eyes. He did not so much as trip as he flew over upturned roots and weaved between the trees. The clean air was rushing into his lungs like new life and without realising, a cry of animalistic thrill sailed through his lips as he skidded to a halt. He flopped back into the grass, staring up at the canopy of the trees. The moon shone down at him through the gaps, bathing his body in its near unbearable heat.

Slowly, as the immediate burst of adrenaline and thrill that had rocketed through him began to ebb away, he wondered what was the best way to get out of here. Could he apparate without a wand? He was still panting as he stared up at the flickers of sky he could see through the trees. The moonlight felt warmer than the sun on his skin.

He'd learnt that werewolves had magic of their own that they didn't need a wand to channel. But he doubted a few days was enough experience to allow him to rely on that. Still, it couldn't hurt to try. He needed to get out of here, get back to Ron and Hermione – he needed to find the rest of those horcruxes and then kill Voldemort!

_I'll worry about everything else later, _he thought as he clambered to his feet, determination filling the void that the ebbing excitement left behind. He had felt a jolt of bliss at the touch of the wind and moon on his face, a pleasure that he'd never known before the werewolf in him had awoken. It had been startling and now he tried to shove it far from his mind as he closed his eyes.

Fixing his mind on the image of The Burrow he held close to his heart, he concentrated on it hard with all his might, then whirled on the spot. Nothing happened. Again he tried and then again focussing on different places, Grimmauld Place's doorstep, Hogsmeade Station, even _Privet Drive_. That last attempt left him so dizzy that he staggered backwards into a tree. It wouldn't work.

e was s

Panic flickered at the edges of his mind as that trapped, claustrophobic feeling started to flow back to him again. How was he supposed to get out of here? Out of instinct rather than thought, he took a cursory sniff of the air and the scent of others out there in the distance carried on the slight breeze into his nose. He wasn't alone out here, but then he'd known that. He'd just have to get past them without magic. He had no idea where he was and had no wand to assist him, but if he could find another town or even retrack the path he and Fenrir had taken back to that farmhouse…

Suddenly, a piercing howl tore through the night that chilled Harry to the bone. He swallowed hard. Whether that was Greyback or not, he didn't want to stick around to find out. He scanned the forest for a moment, trying to find his bearings and decipher a route to take. But there was no path to follow.

Another howl swam through the dark night – nearer than before, Harry thought and the notion sent him bolting into the trees in a random direction. He moved as swiftly and quietly as he could, trying to keep his breath even and low. But the heat was still roiling in his belly, the static still licking at his loins and they both reminded him that at this time of the month, they wouldn't need to hear him to find him.

_They can smell me! _He thought with horror. He flew off to his left, knowing that the stream he'd woken to earlier flowed through here. Sure enough, he caught the faintest glimmer of moonlight dancing across the surface of water and manoeuvred through the trees to see a branch of the river. He leapt into it quickly, drenching himself to the skin, before plucking a fist full of the sweet-smelling flowers the colour of moonlight from the edge of the bank.

They didn't smell overly pungent, but enough that it might help to confuse his scent if not hide it completely. He rubbed the petals over himself, his throat, under his arms and against his crotch with a flush, the places he (somehow) knew his scent would radiate from most strongly. A scent that any unmated wolf would not be able to resist tonight.

Back onto the bank he leapt then, but before he could dive back into the trees he stopped. Still as stone, he scanned the dark line of the trees. He swore he had seen a flicker of movement there just now to his right, but the wind was not coming from that direction so he could smell nothing. His heart was hammering in his chest again with fear now as opposed to adrenaline.

The forest was full of things he'd much rather didn't find him, but nothing worse than what lurked in the Forbidden Forest, of that he was sure. And he had been in _there_ countless times. _No time to think, _he reminded himself sharply, before taking off in the opposite direction to the _hopefully _imagined shadow lurking behind the nearest trees.

Hopelessness began to war with determination in his gut. He was heading towards the village again now with the intent to follow the edge of the forest round. It was a longer route than straight through but he was less likely to get lost and more likely to find civilisation on the forest border. The kind of civilisation he _wanted _to find at least.

Once beyond the border he allowed his footsteps to slow a little, the possibility of a chase less daunting now that he was out in open air with the moon breathing softly down on him. He wasn't as afraid as he had been with her watching. Though he had a nasty suspicion that was because his instincts bloomed under her light when she was in full. His instincts were more than eager for one of the wolves he _felt _out there to catch him.

As he walked across the deserted moorlands beyond the forest, a slight breeze whisked over him. An eerie mist lingered across them that shone silver with the moonlight but Harry set his jaw and walked through it. His wet clothes clung to him, turning cold in the night air and making him shiver.

After being burning hot all day he was now shuddering with the cold. His body was beginning to ache as well as tremble with the static sensation rushing through him. But he had to keep going, he was not just going to lay down and die, or worse, wait for one of the wolves still howling in the distance to come find him. He would not give up, not while he still had breath in his lungs, the idea was abhorrent to him.

Suddenly, a deep, ominous howl sounded just to the side – far too close for comfort. The mist had swirled now so that he could see nothing around him at all. Nothing but a greyish haze interspersed with moonlight and glimpses of grass underfoot. The howl sounded again, closer now and Harry _felt _his heart hammering in his throat. Instinctively he reached for a wand that was not there and the panic inside him swelled to explosive levels. He was gasping for air as his lungs constricted in terror and then he saw it. A large wolf, easily bigger than a bear emerged from the mist, with dark auburn fur that glistened ominously in the moonlight and dark eyes that riveted to Harry with foreboding intensity.

Harry took a step back and the beast's muzzle wrinkled, his fangs exposed in a warning snarl. Harry froze again. If he ran, the thing would catch him with ease. He didn't know what to do. What were you supposed to do when confronted with an animal like this? He strained his memory in an attempt to recall any snippet of information from those survival programmes Dudley used to watch, before realising that this was entirely different. This wasn't an animal, it was a werewolf and it wanted to fuck him or kill him – perhaps both!

Greyback had said his instincts had not yet matured enough to fully take him over under the moon like most werewolves. Most new wolves were bitten or awoken just after a full moon, he'd said, as it gave their instincts time to take root. Only now did Harry fully realise what that meant. Without a deeper connection to his instincts, he had no idea how to survive among them.

_Bloody hell._

Shaking still from the cold and something else now, he took a step back again and this time when the wolf snarled it edged towards him, like a beast stalking its prey. Harry felt like prey. Felt like a scared rabbit caught in headlights, the haunting hum of that old rhyme rumbled in husky, dark tones in his head as he swallowed hard, his mouth dry.

_Run rabbit – run rabbit – Run! Run! Run!_

His heart was frantic now and the moon wailed silently above. Saliva dripped from a long, perilously sharp white canine in that gaping maw as the beast growled, still slowly approaching. Harry was moving slowly too, never taking his eyes off the creature, moving backwards and sideways so that between them he and the beast were dancing a slow, sideways death march in a perfect circle.

It was as if the beast itself were breathing the words now. _Run rabbit – run rabbit…_

Harry struggled to search himself for the way to act, the way to move but the only thing he could think of was never to look them in the eyes. But did he _want _the thing to see him as submissive? If he did, surely he would leap in for the attack? But if he didn't, would the beast not attack anyway for the insult of looking in his eyes? Be raped and possibly die or just be torn to pieces outright – he had the tiger by the tail here, the bull by the horns and neither options were in the least appealing.

Suddenly the brute stopped and grumbled deep in his throat, his paws pressing hard into the dewy ground. Harry's heart and breath stopped. This was it, one way or another and at the last second he set his jaw and did not lower his eyes.

_Run! Run! Run!_

_I covered Greyback's scent as well as my own with the flowers,_ he realised with horror. As far as any wolf out here was concerned, he was fair game. His words from earlier came back to haunt him along with that sinister song.

"_Raped by Greyback, raped by one of them – there's no difference."_

Except there was, wasn't there? He had seen Greyback as a wolf desperate to pin him down last night and although he had been terrified, it hadn't been like this. It was hard to believe that even under the full moon Greyback could be like this. Harry took a final step back. This wasn't Greyback and he had no idea how to submit as these moon-blinded wolves would expect. He was done for.

The beast leapt.

Four sharp streaks of blistering, white-hot agony ripped across his face and he screamed.

_Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! _The last verse of the sinister rhyme ripped through his mind as blood burst from the gouges those claws spawned. His hands grasped his cheek at the blinding agony. But another, more powerful growl tore through the air and as he opened his eyes, he saw a streak of silver _slam _into the other beast. Both of them tumbled across the grass, snapping and snarling at each other.

Harry leapt back so quickly in shock that he stumbled and landed flat on his arse. He shimmied backwards, eyes fixed on the creatures locked together, all claws and gnashing teeth, snarls and gasping whines of pain as they bit into each other. Blood flew, staining the moon-streaked grass and when Harry saw the silver wolf slam into the darker one, sending him sprawling across the ground, he noticed the odd angle that one of the dark one's paws stood at. This was Canagan, one of the twins! The one whose wrist Greyback had broken earlier!

No sooner had he thought this than the auburn creature staggered to its feet, rounding on him. Ignoring the silver wolf, it flew at him with its jaws wide. The silver bounded forwards, head bowed and crashed into Canagan's ribs, sending him scrambling aside. This time, the silver wolf, stockier and larger than Canagan stood directly over Harry, his four paws biting into the ground, the hot fur of his underbelly _just _brushing Harry's head. He was _huge_!

The newcomer held his ground, his head lowering and muzzle vibrating with a cautionary growl. A few feet away, with his body almost swallowed by the mist, Canagan mimicked the threatening stance, edging forwards, apparently undaunted by the prospect of a fight. _Over me, _Harry thought with horror. _They're fighting to see who gets me!_

_Mating rights,_ a voice whispered at the back of his mind.

Suddenly the beasts leapt at each other again, colliding brutally in the air. The silver wolf sank his fangs into the other's throat, shaking Canagan like a ragdoll. Canagan squirmed, howled in pain and writhed like a decapitated serpent in the other's grasp, swiping and struggling for freedom. The silver wolf bore down on his throat harder until a sickening _crack _filled the battlefield.

Harry choked back vomit as Canagan flopped to the ground, spluttering and choking. The other wolf released his neck and Canagan's head smacked into the bloody grass at an odd angle from his body, his eyes wide, blood and cartilage oozing from his torn gullet. The silver wolf stood over its victim triumphantly, studying the piteous creature he had beaten without doubt. With blood staining his muzzle, he turned back to Harry, his wolfish amber eyes flecked with unmistakeable icy blue.

_Greyback,_ Harry thought, realising now who his _'saviour' _was. Those eyes and that fur, he recognised it now, although he was unsure if he should be rejoicing at his arrival or not. The wolf did not move, merely stared at Harry, almost expectantly, with crimson fluids still leaking from his muzzle. But Harry still had no idea what to do.

Slowly, he rolled up off his arse and onto his knees, watching Greyback cautiously. As soon as Harry was upright, however, the wolf growled softly, warningly, drawing himself up to full height. He was displaying his strength, awaiting praise for his victory, but he was also warning Harry to stay still. Harry froze. He didn't know how to move like a werewolf. He could be challenging Greyback just by _blinking _the wrong way for all he knew.

With fear ripe in his veins, he recalled with sudden crystal clarity Greyback's advice. It seemed months ago rather than a day…

"_My wolf will know you, as I said, thanks to my mark and my scent on you, but it will react…_differently_, on instinct rather than with my conscious thought… Don't challenge me. You must submit, always. A loss of your pride tomorrow night will preserve your life for the day after…_ _If in doubt just lay down and turn your head to the side and expose your throat."_

Drawing in a breath, Harry forgot his pride and all else with the desire to survive. Hiding his as well as _Greyback's _scent on him had only endangered him more, he realised. He swallowed hard and averted his gaze, shrugging off his shirt and setting it carefully aside. Every action was slow, cautious but at last he was shirtless and he hoped that some of the smell of sex that Greyback had left on him still lingered under the scent of the flowers.

Harry cringed. He'd _never _thought that he'd want_ that_, not in a million years.

When Greyback still didn't move, did not abandon his threatening stance Harry rolled slowly onto his back. Turning his head to the side in the way he knew to do, he exposed his throat and kept his eyes fixed on the grass, chest rising and falling rapidly. His face hurt, was burning as if on fire and he couldn't help the low sound of pain that left his lips as the cool evening air bit into the broken skin like acid.

He heard movement first, which sent his heart hammering faster than ever before. Struggling to remain still, he bit his lip hard and tried not to run out of pure instinct as a shadow fell over him. The wolf stood over him now, seeming even more huge than before, terrifying but impressive all the more because of it. Harry quickly snapped his eyes forward again, realising he'd caught the wolf's eyes. He understood what Greyback had meant now when he'd said Harry wasn't ready to be with him like this, Harry had no idea what to do! One wrong move and Greyback could do him serious damage, kill him without intending to…

Suddenly, Greyback lowered his head, his tail high in the air. That hot breath made the welts on Harry's face burn even more intensely and the agony rise until he could not help it. He cried out in pain, and turned on his hands and knees to wriggle out from under the wolf's tongue without so much as a second thought.

A bone-shuddering, feral snarl raced up his spine. Before Harry could turn to face the beast, a large paw swiped at his side, sending him skidding across the dirt and onto his back once more. It knocked the wind from him and though it had been a clawless blow, he was sure it would bruise nastily by morning.

The wolf pounced again, rougher than before, Harry's uncooperativeness evidently infuriating him. Greyback lowered his head, bringing his bloody muzzle perilously close to Harry's face while his heavy, sweltering body towered over him. This time, Harry remained still and a long, wet tongue lapped at the bloody, angry gashes on his cheek in reward. Harry winced, the saliva stinging the wounds so badly that he grunted in pain again, gritting his teeth in the effort not to flinch away.

That muzzle nuzzled his abused skin surprisingly softly. The pressure on the claw-marks still made Harry's eyes water, but as Greyback lifted his head subtly, Harry tentatively raised his fingers until he could run them over his own face. The wounds were gone. That stinging pain the tongue brought was gone and he realised now, where he had felt this pain before he'd met Greyback. Murtlap essence and every other human and muggle salve in existence. The saliva that had graced his wounds had _healed_ him.

"Why are you helping me? Just to keep your good lay?" Harry murmured bitterly. That previously gentle muzzle pulled back, showing dangerous fangs looming menacingly above his face. He winced, turning his head to the side again. "I'm sorry," he gasped, but that weight pressed on him harder, claws beginning to dig into his flesh. The pressure, the fear shaking his quivering body pushed an inhuman whine from his lips and Fenrir stopped abruptly.

Harry's eyes widened as his breath raced frantically from his lungs. The wolf had stopped, but hadn't moved off of him. Risking a lick of his suddenly dry lips, Harry whined again, louder this time, closing his eyes and arching his belly up into the heated fur. Greyback retreated.

Harry understood now. This wolf was the embodiment of all Greyback's base instincts; he saw things like the wolf, not the man. He wanted submission, the typical bitch for his raging wolf-desires, heightened by the full moon above. Harry lay still after that, allowing the slow passes of that tongue across his skin, the persistent press of that muzzle at the side of his throat, under his armpits and at his chest, wherever the scent of sweat, sex and Greyback lingered.

It seemed like an age since this odd, fragile calm had fallen. Harry's body became oddly relaxed under the wolf's ministrations, until the cold ground became the main cause of the shivers instead of the beast above him. He was still afraid, how could he not be? But he was most definitely less so than before.

Suddenly, hot breath disturbed his damp hair and Harry opened his eyes to meet the heated amber gaze now fixed on his face. He whined again to counter-act the fact that he had allowed their eyes to meet.

"_But __**do not**__ challenge me. You must submit, always…"_ Why had Greyback's rough voice become a source of _help _in this? It was like a mantra that he was certain would see him through until dawn. He swallowed again, disliking the feeling bubbling inside him. He hated the bastard, but he knew that he would protect him in spite of that.

"_Don't be afraid. It won't hurt you."_ The words echoed in his head and he whined again for good measure. A low, deep-throated grumble brushed against his flesh, an almost _purring _sound and he blushed furiously as he felt that hard, heavy limb between the creature's legs press into his stomach. Harry gasped, tone shamefully high and the beast purred in his ear, its mighty paw nudging his side none-too-gently. Harry knew what he wanted.

Feeling nausea ripple in his belly, Harry moved without thinking, his palms pushing at the wolf's chest. He paused as soon as he realised what he was doing and stared up at the wolf, careful not to meet his eyes. The amber orbs flecked with brightest blue were watching him carefully.

That silver fur was paler at Greyback's chest and underbelly, warm, soft and fine under Harry's hands. He couldn't help himself, he sifted his fingers through the fur, caressing it with awe and veneration. He was sure Greyback could sense this somehow for he calmed slightly under Harry's hands, his tail limp and relaxed against his hind legs, ears pricked with interest.

Slowly, Harry slid up onto his knees in front of Greyback and smoothed his palms through that thick silvery mane which glistened in the moonlight. Calming pheromones rippled through Harry's being at this touch and he leant in more when the wolf lowered his head to permit it, feeling that fur brush slightly against his chest.

A cold nose pressed into the marked side of Harry's throat. Harry paused for a moment, but Greyback only snuffled there interestedly, licking occasionally. From somewhere within, Harry could _feel _Greyback was relaxed – far too relaxed to harm or even fuck him. That notion inspired such profound relief to blossom in his belly that without thinking, Harry made a soft growl of contentment and pressed his cheek into the warm fur of Greyback's massive chest.

He could hear a supernatural beast's heart beating in there; feel his breath move his chest gently. Was this his instincts blooming as Greyback had said they would? He was becoming more and more attuned to what the body language of this wolf meant – more aware of the pheromones filling him up as he breathed the alpha's scent in. It was calming him because Greyback wanted him to be calm. Harry didn't think he liked that, but the notion that it inspired was certainly interesting.

Even Greyback's moon-blinded werewolf form didn't want him to be afraid. That was why instead of holding him down and mating with him (as he'd evidently wanted a moment ago) Greyback was producing the scents to try and calm him.

The shiny red erection had vanished now. The scent of Harry's fear and pain had evidently overwhelmed the scent of Harry's heat and the need to mate with him. That was interesting too. _"With the oath to shield, shelter and protect. With an oath to honour and fight for my mate until my last breath leaves me…" _Greyback had sworn to protect and shelter him among other things. _"And I don't break my promises, pet,"_ he'd said earlier. Harry could not help but believe it. It seemed that Greyback _would _protect him, even from fear – fear of himself, Fenrir Greyback.

It was a reassuring thought, though it wouldn't put a stop to Harry's escape plans. He wasn't going to roll over and play the good puppy for anyone. His escape would just have to wait until he wasn't about to be torn apart in the process. He'd had plenty of practice during all those summers at the Dursleys, waiting to be liberated and taken to The Burrow or Hogwarts. He could be patient now until his moment came.

Leaning back then, Harry looked up at Greyback. Taking a leap of faith and testing his limits with this beast controlled only by instincts, he slid to his feet slowly, reaching up to caress those large furry ears.

Greyback wagged his tail slowly and Harry instinctually emitted another soft yip of happiness. This felt good for some reason. "I think I like you better like this," he mused aloud, petting the wolf's head and ears like a dog. A bloody huge one at that. If Harry stood, he would still only come up to the wolf's neck. His body was powerful but beautiful too and Harry felt a pang for Remus, wherever he was. His werewolf was a twisted, hideous mix of man and wolf, nothing like Greyback's wolf form. Would Remus be this stunning if he could find peace with the beast inside him like Greyback had? The monster on the outside reflected the bitter sadness within, Harry thought sorrowfully.

Just then, a wet tongue swept up the side of his face, jerking him from his reverie and Harry jumped, glancing to the wolf, who butted the side of his head with his massive nose. "You don't like the smell of me upset either?" he asked, not expecting an answer. He rubbed the wolf's ear a final time before deciding to try his luck even further.

Harry took a few steps before realising the wolf wasn't going to bite him for doing so, not now at least and pulled his shirt back on. He shivered with the cold. His clothes, hair and skin were still damp from the river and the night was turning colder as it drew on. He wished he had grabbed his fur cloak before he'd dashed out of the old woman's house…

Ambling over to the nearest tree, Harry lay down against the broad trunk, hoping to use the forest as a windbreak. He closed his eyes. The moon felt nice on his skin still, a calming, slight heat on this cold, perilous night. A moment later, he felt a heavy body slump down beside him and he opened his eyes to see Greyback laying againsthim, pressing into him and then looking at him expectantly.

At this Harry paused. He wasn't sure he wanted to comply here. Greyback and this wolf were the same, no matter how calming one was and how infuriating the other might be. "If I lie down with you it'll be like cuddling you!" Harry said, a flush touching his cheeks at the thought. "Whatever happened last night I'm not your _lover _or anything. I'm not yours. And I _will _escape you. I don't want to be with you." He shivered again, edging slightly away from the werewolf.

The wolf didn't seem to understand and nudged him again, an impatient growl rumbling through that bloodstained muzzle. Harry sighed. He didn't want to, he wanted nothing less but the calming aura that was radiating from the wolf right now made him feel strange. Not _compliant _as such, more like he didn't care so much what the werewolf might think when he awoke. He just wanted comfort, comfort he hadn't had in a long time. Or ever, if he truly thought about it, not like this anyway.

"Just for five minutes," Harry told the wolf, despite knowing he wouldn't understand. He shifted awkwardly until he was resting against the wolf's warm body, nestled against his underbelly with his head just above a massive front leg. He sighed again, but in relaxation this time and allowed his eyelids to flutter closed as the moon bathed their bodies where they lay. "Why cant I feel like this with anyone else?" Harry asked Greyback, again not expecting an answer. His fingers caressed the warm, softer, fluffier fur of the beast's belly absently. "The most comfortable, most valued I've felt in my life and it's with a werewolf who changed me against my will."

He was so fucked up.

As he felt the beast lay its head down on the ground, he wondered absently if in another world he might have _asked_ Greyback to awaken the werewolf in him. Harry was rising and falling softly with the beast's breathing now, the sound of that breath and heartbeat lulling him perilously towards slumber. He fought against the pull as Greyback's heat spread over him, fighting off the cold from his limbs until he was comfortably warm against his body.

Would he ever have welcomed this life if Greyback had actually given him a choice? If Greyback hadn't marred Bill for life and ruined Remus' existence? _Could I ever have accepted this? _He wondered. _Perhaps even loved him_? He was definitely sleepy now if he was thinking of 'might have beens' like _that. _He yawned widely, unwittingly leaning closer into his canine pillow. If werewolf ran in his blood, he may have found peace in this life, maybe, had things been different. But as they weren't…

"I will to escape you," he murmured sleepily into Greyback's fur. "I _have _to…"

_~To Be Continued..._


	5. Waking with the Wolf

Author's Note:

Thank you so much again for everyone who is reading and also those taking the time to let me know you're enjoying - it means a lot : )

* * *

.: Chapter Five :.

Waking with the Wolf

Like the morning before, Harry woke slowly in warmth and comfort, with the familiar feeling of a cosy blanket of fur over his head. Unlike last time, however, when Harry sat up and pushed the fur cloak off his head, he was not alone. Greyback was sitting nearby, watching him. Fully clothed and human again – _thankfully_.

"You reacted better to me during a full moon than I'd thought you would," Greyback murmured, his voice full of hidden meaning. "By the next moon your instincts will have taken root and you'll be completely prepared." Harry glared back in answer, sitting up a little straighter. The clothes that old woman had given him yesterday were still spotless somehow. He was glad, they were much comfier than the overlarge garments Greyback had given him before.

"You seemed more concerned with me being upset and afraid than fucking me," Harry said, trying for indifference and failing. A light flush touched his cheeks. The sun wasn't too high in the sky, meaning it was still early and most of the mist had dwindled but it was still quite chilly. He shivered and pulled the cloak round his shoulders securely, before realising he hadn't had it last night.

"You left," he said, immediately infuriated at how _concerned _the words had sounded.

Greyback smirked. "When the sun came up I left you with adequate scent protection," he said. "I went to the village and back as a wolf for speed. I was barely gone five minutes. I would have sensed if you were in danger, just like yesterday – the morning and the evening…"

Harry frowned. "You sensed I was in trouble both times?" He received a nod in answer and felt surprised. He hadn't known the bond between them allowed that, it made slightly more sense now. The bond existed so that they could protect each other more than invade each other's privacy. Yet the fact that he needed Greyback to protect him at all rubbed him up the wrong way. He snorted.

"You know if you gave me my wand you wouldn't have to defend me. I'm perfectly capable of defending myself with my magic," he griped, infuriated by the way Greyback's smile broadened at his words.

"After a little while those with the recessive gene can do magic without a wand. They draw their power from the earth and sky, the moon herself, like werewolves do," Greyback explained. "And I never took your wand, the Dark Lord still has it."

Harry nodded. In truth his own wand (that had been broken by Hermione's spell back in Godric's Hollow) was still perfectly safe along with the rest of his precious possessions. Still sitting in Hermione's beaded bag. The wand taken from him had been the blackthorn one Ron had given him after stealing it from a snatcher. Somehow, the thought that the wand wasn't his own in the first place, the knowledge that his own wand was safe (albeit still broken) made him feel a little better. It would've broken his heart to think his photo album, his cloak and all of his precious heirlooms from his parents and Sirius were gone.

Greyback's loud sniffing of the air snapped him from his melancholy thoughts. "Don't do that," the wolf growled warningly, getting to his feet.

Harry stared. "Do what?"

"Don't…don't foul the air with your misery, it's very…" He grit his teeth. "I can feel it and it pisses me off."

Harry blinked at him a moment before pulling the cloak around him so thoroughly that only his head was visible. Greyback could sense his upset and disliked it, because of the bond they shared or because it genuinely made him feel bad? Why did he even care? He was so confused. He'd heard of things like this and wished he had someone clever like Hermione to tell him what was going on inside him.

_Stockholm Syndrome, _was that was it was? As simple as a prisoner generating feelings for his captor in search of even the smallest comfort? That didn't feel quite right.

Suddenly Greyback was directly in front of him, staring down at him. "I said _stop _doing that," he growled.

Harry glared. "You can't control me or how I bloody feel. I don't belong with you!"

"You do belong with me! You can't deny how _right _last night felt for you, _I _felt it emanating from you. You've never been so content in your life!" Greyback snarled. "And I'm not trying to control you. I could if I wanted to but I'm not. All I'm trying to do is stop you from making me feel like shit when I've done everything in my power to take care of you! I'm an alpha, I don't coddle or indulge others, but I have with you_. _I've done everything for you!"

"Except let me go!" Harry roared, leaping to his feet, his jaw set. He barely came up to Greyback's armpit but he glared at him with vengeance all the same. "Your actions have ruined my life–"

"I claimed you to save you–"

"You claimed me to fuck me and get your own little werewolf brood out of me!" Harry protested. "You don't give two flying fucks about me as a man!"

Greyback seized him then by the scruff of his neck, drawing him up so close to his face that Harry had to rise onto his toes to remain touching the ground at all. "If that were true I wouldn't care if you were upset or afraid–"

"The _wolf _cares, not you," Harry began. But Greyback cut across him with a frustrated bellow.

"The wolf and me are the same!" His grip on Harry's shirt tightened and Harry saw rage. "Just as the wolf in you and the man you are now one!" Greyback growled out in infuriated frustration then, releasing Harry and spinning on his heel, visibly seething, struggling to control his temper.

"Why must you fight any comfort or good feeling?" he demanded without turning to face him again, as if the sight of him would make him flip. "Does there need to be a bloody rhyme or reason to everything?! I don't want you to be afraid or miserable. I wouldn't want to let you go even if doing so _wouldn't _mean the Dark Lord would kill you. I don't know the sodding reason, I don't. I just give a shit whether you live or die, alright?"

Silence fell and Harry could do nothing but stare at the creature before him. He had the feeling that he had become important to Fenrir Greyback over the last few days, precious even. A large part of that seemed to be to do with what he could do for him, but if there was one thing he could sympathise with in this alleged murderer, it was the need for a family of his own.

_I don't want one with him and I certainly don't want to be the one to…to give birth to anything, _Harry thought. _But one day I want to have a family with someone I care about, _deeply_; I want that more than anything…_

He considered the werewolf cautiously, again finding himself wondering if another time, another place he might have chosen this path for himself some day. He supposed he'd never know.

"Look," he began after the silence between them had long fallen stagnant. "I trust that you don't want anything to happen to me, I can hardly not after the last few days and I appreciate you saving my arse twice yesterday – _literally, _most likely. But I don't belong with you, Greyback." At that the werewolf whirled around, his mouth open, on the verge of speech, but Harry got there first.

"I don't belong here because I have a job to do." He paused there, wondering how much he could trust Greyback with. He knew his own mind was safe now; Greyback's connection to him meant that Voldemort could not venture into his mind as he once did. He had a suspicion that the reason the bond held Voldemort out was to do with emotions, the sincere kind that he found so abhorrent.

"I need to stop Voldemort before I can even _think _about a life of my own," he said at last deciding that the truth was the only hope in hell he had of convincing Greyback to let him go. "People I love and hundreds of thousands of more people besides will suffer and die if I don't. And I know you don't give a shit about anyone but yours and your own but do you really think Voldemort will leave _any _potential threat to him unconquered?" He looked at Greyback imploringly now.

"Once the muggles and half-bloods are under control he'll go after the other races that might oppose him, werewolves, vampires, giants – all of you until he's conquered you all! I've been inside his sick mind, I know him. He won't rest until he's invincible!"

Suddenly Greyback's huge hands were on his shoulders, gripping them tightly and his bright blue eyes were locked on his face. "This is exactly it, pet. When you accepted me under the moon you passed all of those burdens onto me. The sub doesn't fight or concern himself with such things. I will protect you from the Dark Lord, just like I did with those wolves yesterday – from everyone and _anyone_. You're safe now. No one will hurt you and you never have to worry about hunger or suffering again. As long as I have breath in me, anything you were worried about before is redundant, got it?" His voice was rough as ever, but there was a husky yearning behind it all, desperation for Harry to understand.

"Under the full moon last night and before, during the mating ritual, you felt carefree and safe because that's what you're _meant _to be now."

Harry tried to step back but those hands held him fast. "And what about my friends? The people I love? I won't abandon them to play your bitch," Harry retorted hotly. "Look, if there was a way I could _buy _your brute strength with my wretched body I would. But it doesn't work like that; you _can't _protect me from Voldemort. I'm the only one that can kill him!"

Greyback's grip was almost painful on his shoulders now. "Your instincts think I can protect you," he murmured coarsely, "or else they'd never have chosen me as your mate. I can protect you, pet, and I will. The Dark Lord can't afford to piss me off and risk losing every werewolf in Britain to the light side. Why do you think he gave you to me without much fuss? He walks a thin line with me. My race are his secret weapon in this war and he knows it."

Greyback released him then, surveying Harry from head to toe as he so often did, before leaning in. Harry's body went rigid, but with embarrassment as opposed to fear and his cheeks coloured when he felt the werewolf's hot breath on the marked side of his neck. He shuddered and not from the cold this time when those lips _just _skimmed the sensitive, scarred flesh there. He gasped.

"Don't ever talk about buying favours with your body again either, pet. If you want something from me, ask for it," Greyback breathed huskily against him. An instinctive, uncontrollable whine of bliss left Harry before he could stop it and his hands flew up to cover his mouth. Greyback growled heatedly in his throat, seizing each of Harry's wrists in his hands and pinning them fast to Harry's sides.

"Don't ever silence yourself either. The sounds you make are natural, for me only. Even you can't fight your instincts, can't deny that you want me." Greyback punctuated his words by nuzzling up just behind Harry's ear, his stubbly chin teasing the appendage until Harry felt it grow as hot as his cheeks.

"I don't want to buy your body, I don't need to when it's willingly mine anyway," the wolf all-but panted into the shell of his ear and Harry's eyes slammed shut in reaction, his body ramrod stiff in Greyback's grasp. "I will however, help your precious friends if you do something for me."

Harry's eyes flew open suddenly in shock. Greyback chuckled, sensing the surprise in him without seeing his face and that stubbly mouth tickled its way across his earlobe, where it suckled roughly. An animalistic groaning whimper shot from Harry's lips, followed by a very human moan.

"W-What do you mean help?" Harry demanded, trying to sound feisty but failing as arousal tinted every syllable. Greyback's mouth was against the side of his jaw now, those fangs grazing the flesh all the way down to his chin.

"I mean I will send word of your safety to them. I mean I will send my most trusted and powerful to aid them in whatever quest they were on with you when you got caught," Greyback said gruffly but simply, as if it had been obvious before his elaboration.

Harry groaned again, his one free hand flying up and seizing a fistful of the silver hair that hung over Greyback's shoulder. Whether it was to pull him close or push him away he didn't know anymore.

"What do you want?!" Harry gasped, desperate to escape the pleasure and for it to never end all at once. He felt Greyback chuckle against his chin and when he opened his eyes, he found their faces but a hairsbreadth apart and Greyback's mouth dangerously close to his own. As if they were about to kiss. _Oh shit! _His face was burning now – his entire body was on fire!

"Say my name, pet," Greyback demanded breathily, his words dancing across Harry's slightly parted lips.

Harry felt his mind fog. It was surely not right to be so affected by this beast. _He's everything you want and need, _a voice whispered at the back of his mind and he closed his eyes, trying to hide the thought from Greyback's gaze. "This won't stop me from trying to escape you," Harry breathed heavily, "I'm not going to be your litter bitch."

Greyback growled, tugging Harry's hair roughly. "Do you want my help or not, pet?" he asked gruffly.

Harry groaned at the tingling heat that shot down his spine from the tight grip on the roots of his hair. Their bond was ringing from honesty on Greyback's end; he meant what he was offering with no trickery and Harry felt so overwhelmingly confused by that and the heat coursing through him that he swore his head would explode.

_And he's doing this purely to please me, _he realised absently. _He's still courting you, _his instincts whispered quietly through the fog of arousal and confusion, _still trying to win your approval, to prove himself a good mate. _

He could feel Greyback's stubble against his smooth skin now. His breath hitched and he struggled to find his voice for Hermione, Ron and the others, for the sake of the mission Dumbledore had left them with. _And if Greyback sends his minions, they are sure to try and get me out of here, aren't they? _

"G-Grey–"

The fingers in his hair tugged harder,

"My given name, pet," Greyback corrected him. "I want to hear it on your dainty little lips."

Harry wanted to scowl, but…

*****CENSORED. FOR FULL SCENE, PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE*****

Harry continued to watch him, his feelings up in the air in confusion. He had just climaxed quite willingly under Fenrir Greyback and his moon-heat had already diminished along with the full moon. _I wanted it, _he thought with horror; _I wanted how he made me feel. _Everything felt simpler when Greyback made him feel like that, like he didn't have to think about anything else. Like he could lay back for the first time in his life and just…

An abrupt pressure against his forehead shook him from his reverie and he opened his eyes (not having realised he'd closed them) to find Greyback had butted his head against Harry's forehead and was now watching him. "You're thinking too much, pet. You just came spectacularly with me. What do you need to worry yourself over?"

Harry stared at him for a moment before sighing, closing his eyes in a display of exhaustion (when really it was to give himself an excuse to not look into those unfathomable eyes). "I wouldn't expect you to understand," he said quietly. Greyback merely scoffed in answer and pressed his nose into Harry's throat for a moment, inhaling.

"I understand better than you think – some things better than you it seems," Greyback murmured gruffly. He pulled his own trousers up to rest back on his hips, his upper body bare as always. Harry didn't know whether it was because he didn't like wearing clothes or because he liked to show of his hard, sculpted torso. He flushed slightly at the thought.

"And the few things that I don't understand, pet, you'll have plenty of time to teach me," the werewolf smirked, getting to his feet.

Harry scowled at him, pulling his shirt down and his own trousers up. "That's what you think," he snapped at Greyback, pulling the fur cloak around his shoulders. For now, he would stick with the unbearable alpha that his body and instincts adored so. It was his best chance of ever seeing Ron and Hermione again and fulfilling his unwanted destiny of defeating Voldemort. The latter was in no way as appealing as the first, of course but…necessary. There was no one else for the job, after all, he reminded himself with a pang of bitterness that he quickly quashed.

"You seem attached to that thing," Greyback said then, summoning Harry's attention back to him as he gestured to the cloak still wrapped around Harry's shoulders. Harry glared at him furiously but before he could spit out a retort, Greyback had shucked off his trousers again, effectively distracting him.

Harry's eyes widened. He hastily looked away. "What the bloody hell are you playing at?!" he gushed, not wanting to get anymore familiar with Greyback's body than he already was.

Greyback chuckled wolfishly, offering the garment out to Harry. Harry saw it out of the corner of his eye and his glower intensified.

"If you don't take it then when I change back you'll have a naked alpha you apparently despise for company," the werewolf mused gruffly. Harry snatched the garment off him, guessing what the next step was going to be. Although it would be undoubtedly quicker (and easier on his aching body) he was not sure his pride would suffer it.

"Good boy," Greyback mock-appraised him, before he took a step back and urged his body into a voluntary change. Muscle and flesh rippled. Bone merged into a larger, altogether different shape that after last night, Harry easily recognised. He felt oddly calmer at the sight of those amber eyes flecked with blue and that beautifully glossy silver coat. Perhaps it was an instinct/hormone thing, as even the smell of the morning breeze through that fur made his anger dissipate.

The alpha wolf padded towards him, brushing his furred face against Harry's chest, nearly knocking him off his feet with his strength. Harry managed to stay upright and gripped Greyback's mane to steady himself, surprised to feel that the fur was still soft and comforting under his hands. He thought he'd imagined it last night.

"You should stay like this, you're much easier to be with this way," Harry muttered, receiving another forceful brush of that head against his face this time. In this form, Greyback was immense in size. Harry wondered if the rest of his 'pack' boasted the same bear-sized dimensions. _I'll find out soon enough, I reckon, _he thought as he reluctantly pulled himself onto the alpha's back. It was only his survival instincts that enabled him to do so without more fuss.

It was no more unnerving than riding Buckbeak or a thestral – he was not now several hundred feet off the ground after all. It was also fairly easy to forget that this was _Greyback _beneath him, since the man couldn't taunt or provoke him; the scent rising from that soft fur made him feel quite laid back.

It was Greyback whose pride would suffer most anyway, since he was allowing Harry to ride on his back like some horse. Harry was in the superior position – on top. He wondered if Greyback knew that and if he did, why it didn't bother him. Besides which, if this got him far away from the rogue wolves that would rape him quicker, he would happily forgo a slither of pride. He cast a glance back at the place where Cannagan had fallen last night. Greyback had buried the bastard under a thick layer of soil, which now stood out from the surrounding grassland. Harry frowned. He hadn't realised that Greyback was the kind to give even an enemy a decent burial. It surprised him.

_He's not exactly what you presumed he'd be, is he? _His instincts whispered. _It isn't like you to judge a book by its cover._

Harry frowned. _I judged him by what he did to Bill and Remus – by how he made irreversible changes to my life without my permission._

_He saved you! And as for Bill and Remus, perhaps he could justify those actions too. _

Harry snorted. _He might try and justify what he did to me, I might even be able to accept that on some level, _he retorted in his own mind. _But there is no way in hell he can make excuses for what he did to Bill and Remus. There's no forgiving that._ With that thought, Greyback leapt forwards, throwing Harry flat against his back with the sudden movement.

"You did that on purpose," Harry griped as he struggled to steady himself. He gripped Greyback's ribs with his legs and knotted his hands in the wolf's fur at his neck as they bolted across the moor. The breeze intensified with their speed, rushing against his face and through his hair, inciting a smile to touch his lips despite the situation. It was like flying. Greyback was bounding at warp speed across the ground – so fast his massive paws were barely touching it.

Why hadn't they done this from the start, he wondered? But then he realised. _Because he knew I'd say no before. _So what was different now?

_You came with him without any outside influence and without the moon's hold over you, _his mind whispered. He grit his teeth and flushed darkly but could not deny it. He'd pulled Greyback to him for no other reason than wanting to feel good. _What does that make me? A man who cuddles up to someone he dislikes so eagerly? _He winced, not liking the words that sprang to mind.

Suddenly, Greyback sped up until the wind was howling in Harry's ears, pressing against his face with unyielding force. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open and he gripped Greyback harder with his hands and legs out of instinct. Greyback had sped up to distract him from his thoughts, no doubt having sensed his melancholy, Harry realised, silently thankful, but also guilty. Did he deserve such a reprieve?

Within moments they were rushing past the boundaries of the village and it was out of sight after another few. Harry turned slightly and watched it vanish from view as they flew across the moorlands. He would have to ask Greyback why those villagers were under their protection. Why had Greyback and his pack helped to set up the parameter that kept any invaders out of the village? They'd even set up a scent claim over the village to protect it. He recalled dimly the way Greyback had spoken to the old woman, as if he respected her. But Greyback loathed wizards and witches, didn't he?

The wind rushed through his hair, clearing his senses as they left the village far behind and the sun rose higher in the sky. Harry tipped his head back on his shoulders, closing his eyes and feeling the sun's warmth on his face, embracing the strength of the wind. This was just like last night when he had run under the moon, only more exhilarating.

"Wish I could run this fast," Harry mused, without realising he had spoken his words aloud. His body was heavy with exhaustion after the last few days, the moon heat having taken its toll. The itching, aching heat and desire had long since abated but the echo of tiredness it left behind remained. He kept his eyes closed, not realising in his daze that Greyback's pace had slowed a fraction.

He didn't realise when his body tipped slowly to lay flat, his face and torso pressed into the fur of Greyback's neck. He did vaguely register the wolf twisting his head to swipe his tongue across Harry's arm, which was now hanging limply at his side. Harry grumbled sleepily, drifting in a limbo between slumber and consciousness. "Can't give in to you," Harry mumbled, again without realising he'd spoken aloud, nearly lost to sleep, "Can't be yours. Got to finish…got to be me…"

Greyback pondered those words as he moved as fast as he could without dislodging or awakening the boy on his back. He was too light really for a man of his age, even if he was a little short. _Needs feeding, _he thought, trying not to think of how that glorious young body would fill once it was carrying his offspring.

The boy was so concerned with the responsibilities that he'd been lumbered with by much more powerful men. Perhaps that was why he was so obstinate and determined to not realise that he, Fenrir was the answer to everything he had never even _dared _to hope for. _We're meant for each other, pet, you'll see, _he thought, pausing at the edge of a great forest he knew all to well.

The Forest of Shae. He thought fondly of the name – the same as that of the village. They were both his _'mother's'_ namesake. The leaves were a rich array of greens and seemed to _sparkle _with their magic as the sun danced off them. The boughs and bark of the trees were a healthy, earthy brown and the trees themselves stood loosely together at first, growing closer together the further in he went. He wondered as he moved, just what his mother might have thought of the boy sleeping soundly on his back.

_They were both as obstinate as each other, _he thought with a grin that could not form due to the muzzle he now wore instead of his human mouth. Perhaps that was why he'd been so drawn to the boy back at Malfoy Manor, unable to let him slip through his grasp despite the trouble it was causing him now. Despite it meaning he now owed a favour to the Dark Lord. The second he had seen his strength, his stubbornness, it had been simply impossible to walk away.

His mother had done great things and was not the usual sub. His mate would do great things with his power, with his pride and tenacity just as his mother had, Fenrir was sure of it. _You'd be proud, _Fenrir thought, turning his attention back to the trees again.

The den of his pack was straight on into the very depths of the forest, protected by the Mountain of Adair that stood in the distance, surrounded by the mythical trees and rolling hillocks. It was said that the magic of the trees and the mountain their home was built within, was just as good as any protective enchantments the wizards made. Especially their flawed _Fidelius charms_. No one could apparate in or out. No one could use magic to locate it and the alpha and beta of the pack knew the moment any living being entered the forest domain.

Fenrir didn't know if there was any validity to the legends he'd been told since birth, but he knew that they had never been found by any living soul within this forest and any foe that had entered the boundaries had never defeated them. His father had told him that the forest was alive, one with them. He'd said that it gave them their own natural magic that rivalled anything the wizards produced with a wand. Fenrir could not help but believe it as he stepped into the shade of the trees.

The branches bent with the breeze to caress him and his precious cargo. He inclined his head and lapped at the crystal clear stream that wound between the trees and out of sight. After sating his thirst, he heard the belly of his mate grumble and cast his gaze in the direction he knew the den was in.

They would be there soon and then he would have to deal with whatever had happened in his absence as well as the endless questions – both from the pack and from the boy on his back. As said boy squirmed in his sleep however, defenceless and far more endearing than he was when awake, Fenrir thought it would be worth it. And ultimately, every one of his pack knew how valuable those like his mate were, especially since so many had been lost during the time wizards had hunted them down. He growled softly, banishing the bitter memories from his mind. He swore not to dwell on that time ever again; he was needed more in the present than he was in the past, after all…

* * *

Harry awoke slowly, groggy but definitely more refreshed than he had felt before. He was warm but immobile, which he knew he _hadn't _been when he had dozed off. _We were moving weren't we? _He thought, disorientated as his eyes fluttered open and he found himself squinting up at the afternoon sun peeping through a glistening canopy of leaves. It was like being in another world, some sort of paradise, he thought.

"I'm still dreaming," he murmured, voice hoarse with lack of use as his vision began to focus. He wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"I didn't know I was dream material," a gruff voice said from the side and Harry scowled at the smirk that rode across Greyback's lips. The wolf was a man again, thankfully dressed in the trousers Harry had held for him while he was changed. He was bent over a small fire with some sort of meat skewered over the flames. It was for him, Harry immediately realised but did not move or ask for the food, even if his stomach grumbled loudly at the sight and smell of it. Greyback's grin broadened in answer.

"You're far too scrawny. I'll need to ensure you get the best from each hunt so you fatten up a bit," the alpha said, plucking the wooden skewer up and bringing it over to Harry. He held the stick out to him, his brow rising when Harry didn't move. "I made an oath to you under the moon, pet, this is part of that oath. Eat it. They can hear your growling belly all the way back at the village."

"I don't need your charity," Harry snapped, snatching the skewer from Greyback all the same, holding each end with his hands. "If you gave me a wand, or at least showed me how to use this 'werewolf' magic I'm supposed to have then I can catch and cook my own food."

Greyback chuckled coarsely. "The 'werewolf magic' isn't something you can teach. You'll learn it when you're more in tune with your instincts and as for a wand, we're a long way from any wand maker, pet." He stared at Harry a moment, considering him before adding, "besides, it's my job as your alpha, your mate to provide for you. I'd be considered a failure by all if I didn't provide you with enough food. Eat." He punctuated the last word by dropping down heavily in front of Harry. Sitting rigidly, Greyback watched him with a hard stare until Harry lost the battle with his own hunger and sank his teeth into the perfectly plucked and cooked pheasant.

The taste exploded in his mouth, full and rich, as if Greyback had used some sort of spice. The meat was moist and delicious and Harry felt himself salivating as he sucked it ravenously from the stick. He was being watched but the emptiness in his stomach didn't care. It tasted like chicken with a slight twang – he didn't think he'd ever tasted something so delicious outside of Hogwarts.

"Looks like I built you up an appetite yesterday," Greyback chuckled roughly, watching Harry as if it provided him with infinitesimal pleasure.

Harry flushed darkly and ripped the last succulent strip of meat from the stick, before tossing it into the small fire that was now dwindling behind Greyback. It was as if the flames _knew_ he was done with them. Harry wondered if that was part of the magic Greyback had said that werewolves had access to earlier.

_They didn't need wands he said..._

"You ready?" Greyback asked abruptly, calling Harry back from his reverie.

Harry blinked at him. "Ready for what?" he asked, unable to keep the suspicion from his voice. It occurred to him to say thank you for the food, but the words died on his tongue. Surely if he was polite to Greyback, anything but flippant, indifferent or frustrated, it would be like accepting him, accepting…_this?_

"We're about half a mile from the den, pet," Greyback said simply, a knowing look in his otherwise impassive face. He was watching Harry still, gauging his reaction.

Harry scowled. "Don't call me pet!" he demanded, exasperated. "Don't give me pet names like we're bloody _lovers _or something."

Greyback's eyes flickered with an intense emotion Harry was loathe to put a name to.

"Oh, we're much more than _lovers_." Greyback punctuated the words by sliding forwards and capturing Harry's chin between his rough thumb and forefinger. Harry shook his grip off, glaring up at him hatefully. This only made Greyback's familiar smirk return to his lips.

"We're mated for life – you chose me, bound yourself to me and now you're coming home."

The word stuck in Harry's throat as he parted his lips to repeat it in sarcasm. That which Greyback had spoken of wasn't something he easily came by. Hogwarts was probably the only place he had ever considered home, although The Burrow had come close. That Greyback spoke of giving him one made his insides ache. He ducked his head, trying to hide his reaction (even if Greyback could sense it) and got to his feet, his arms tense by his sides.

"It _can't _be my home," Harry managed hoarsely, the second word a true struggle to utter. "I don't belong with you, whatever my body or instincts might think. I told you, I have things to do, things _only I _can do–"

"And I told you, that's my job now. Whatever you left undone is my responsibility by default," Greyback grunted, rising to his feet too and towering over him. He sounded and looked exasperated as well. "As your mate I'm an extension of you – just as your silly little wand was an extension of you." He looked annoyed now as well at having to use wizarding terms to make Harry understand. _He hates wizards, _Harry reminded himself, _he doesn't consider me one anymore, obviously._

"I'm your strength, your power. You must use _me_ to complete whatever task you set out to do," Greyback finished.

"I've got enough strength and power of my own, thanks," Harry retorted hotly. "And if I had my wand I'd gladly giveyou a demonstration." It was meant to sound threatening, but Greyback didn't look even remotely concerned. _More amused,_ Harry thought, irritated. "And if you are _my _strength, what the hell am I to you?"

Greyback considered him, looking a little…_embarrassed? _

"They say the alpha numero is the heart of the alpha," Greyback muttered under his breath, crossing the forest floor to the fire, where he stomped out the last of the dying embers. He seemed to be purposefully avoiding Harry's eyes. "It is said that they give the brute strength and dominance purpose…"

Harry scoffed. "What a crock of shit," he grunted, "I'm the body for you to fuck, to do with and dispose of as you see fit. The litter bitch – I remember what those arseholes at the camp said." He was referring to that band of outsiders lead by the red-headed brothers of course. Judging by the look of fury on Greyback's face when he turned to look on him again, he'd registered that perfectly.

"Those mongrels are _nothing _like the rest of us!" Greyback snarled dangerously. His voice was so low it was almost a growl. "They're an insult to our very _species_! Our mates, our subs – those like you with the ability to bear us live young, they're precious to us. Gifts from the moon herself." Greyback winced then as if any thought otherwise was repugnant to him. "Those outcasts are disgusting things. They've no respect for life or the earth that gives us our magic…"

Harry frowned in confusion. "Magic is inside of us, not drawn from the elements," he began but Greyback's head snapped in his direction, silencing him.

"But the elements _further_ the magic werewolves are born with, it's part of what makes us such formidable foes. They fortify our magic, they help us to channel magic without a wand–"

"But you _had _a wand," Harry cut across him. "I saw you with one the night Dumbledore died. You offered to kill him in Malfoy's place on the tower!"

For a moment a long silence fell between them. Greyback clearly hadn't realised Harry had seen that, or that Harry had seen him at all before he'd _'rescued' _him from Voldemort. _Another reason I will never be yours, _Harry snarled bitterly in his mind. Greyback was very nearly the one who had ended Dumbledore's life as opposed to Snape. "You were ready to kill him," Harry said quietly, without really meaning to speak out loud.

Greyback sneered. "That old bastard kept one of my changelings from me," he grunted. "I can never forgive that."

Harry stared at him, his eyes wide. He had a feeling that he knew _exactly _which 'changeling' Greyback was referring to. His tongue darted over his suddenly dry lips and he tried to ignore the way those icy blue eyes followed the diminutive movement. "You mean Remus Lupin, don't you?" he asked. Greyback didn't need to answer with words, Harry saw that he was correct by the way the alpha's body stiffened.

"I know him. He's a good man. You snuck into his home and bit him against his will. He _hates _being a werewolf! He goes through agony every month because of you!"

"Because of that interfering fool _Dumbledore,_" Greyback snarled, but he turned away, as if reluctant to continue on this subject. _Something to hide? _Harry's mind hissed accusingly.

"I bit the boy, yes," Greyback continued, "there is no other way for our subs to have children. We take orphans and mistreated brats from their homes and welcome them into ours, give them a new life–"

"A life they might not want!" Harry roared.

Greyback's muscles bunched as if he wanted to fly at Harry and pin him to the nearby tree by his throat. His large hands curled into fists and his eyes flared. "Surely anything is better than a life of abuse, pain and neglect?!" Greyback snapped through large, white gritted teeth. "As rumour has it _you _should have wished for anything to take you away from those muggles of yours."

Harry stopped. Would he have welcomed the bite? Would he have fallen happily into the arms of a new family? A werewolf foster mother and father? He closed his eyes, trying to reel in his emotions, his memories. The memory of Dudley jumping up and down on the stairs above the cupboard he slept in, of Uncle Vernon's biting comments about his unwanted presence, of every Christmas that Aunt Petunia showered Dudley with affection and presents – they swam through him like a bitter tide of aside. He held his breath.

"But Remus had loving parents and every day he is _haunted _by what you did to him," Harry said, ignoring the swell of understanding rising in his belly. "You ruined his life just as you ruined mine!"

"I don't have to justify to you what I did years before you were even born!" Greyback spat.

"You do when the victim is probably the closest thing I have left to a parent!" Harry retorted. Greyback snarled again and this time _did _surge forwards, slamming his fist into the bark of the tree beside Harry's head, caging him in with his arm and body.

"We hunt and watch, we search for our younglings," Greyback hissed dangerously, his face inches from Harry's. Harry could feel his hot, musky breath on his face and inhaled sharply, holding it in as Greyback calmly raged. "He was abused and in pain, but his parents were not the culprits. By the time we realised it was too late. We tried to talk to his parents afterwards, wanted to help him, to help them to raise him so he wouldn't suffer as he does now, but your precious _Dumbledore _stuck his great nose in…"

For a moment, Harry saw those azure eyes blaze with something unfamiliar, something akin to pain. Then the wolf stepped back from him, turning away. Harry breathed out at last, his heart still hammering. Had Remus been abused by someone else then? Or had Greyback mistaken the whole idea?

"So how many other children did you mistakenly take from their families?" he asked, his voice slightly higher than normal.

Greyback turned back to him again, but slowly this time. "I never made a mistake before then and I've not made one since." The wolf paused then, as if considering whether to elaborate further. Harry could sense his discomfiture, his angry wretchedness. Greyback's mouth twisted, opening and closing soundlessly and Harry swore he had been about to state his regret, but instead the wolf said, "I make a point of not making mistakes like that, as alpha."

Harry snorted. "It was a mistake to take me as your mate. You should have found yourself a nice bitch to rut with instead of me." Why did that notion fill his chest with such uncomfortable fire? He swore he heard his instincts growling at the suggestion – in _jealousy. _These words seemed to eradicate the angst hanging so pungently in the air, for Greyback staggered back to him with a smirk on his lips. He caught Harry's chin between calloused thumb and forefinger.

"Oh no, pet, you're the right one for me. And my pack is the home for you, you'll see," the werewolf said, his smirk not fading even when Harry shook his chin free of his grasp. Blue eyes were on fire, fuelled by an emotion entirely different from anger now and it unnerved Harry to see it.

After a moment, Greyback sniffed the air. Harry did so as well (as inconspicuously as possible to avoid Greyback noticing) but couldn't smell anything. There was nothing there apart from the fresh air, the birds, the stream he could hear nearby and Greyback's heady, musky scent. It made his cheeks colour a little as he realised he could still smell the evidence of their mating on the both of them. What would the pack say? They would know for sure!

"I want a bath before we go to the den," Harry said suddenly, looking to his right, the direction in which he sensed the clean water of the river. Greyback was looking at him knowingly. Harry refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing the embarrassment in his eyes and did not look at him directly. "I'll be quick," Harry added, moving hastily through the trees without waiting for a reply. He didn't want to give Greyback the chance to stop him. _Or to mutter some tasteless remark, _he thought as he hastened towards the water source.

The bubbling, crystal clear brook ran into a generous lake. The lake itself was headed by a grand waterfall that imbued the world around it with a rainbow of colours, the kind of image that seemed to be too beautiful to be natural. It was as if every droplet gushing over the waterfall was a liquid crystal, reflecting the light of the sun in stunning colour. It was a sight to behold, framed with those rich, magical trees and Harry's jaw was still open with awe as he stripped off, hurrying into the water.

It was cold and Harry shivered but did not stop. When he was waist deep, he began splashing the icy water over his skin, scrubbing with his hands to try and cleanse himself of the smells of sex. Besides whatever the pack thought, if he smelled this way when his friends came to save him, he didn't think he would ever be able to look them in the eye again. Remus and Bill would be able to identify the obvious scents if no one else.

The sun was warm, a fine contrast to the lake as it beamed down on his naked flesh – finally clean after an eternity of scrubbing. His hands were quite red now from his vigorous cleaning, but he felt whole at last, able to look down at his body without shame. It was pale as ever but bruised with the evidence of Greyback's passion and his cheeks darkened at the sight. He stalked out of the water.

_Slut, _his mind hissed. _And you slept with him willingly the last time, all of your own volition. You came under him like some wanton…_

_I know! _Harry berated himself, stooping down to pull on his trousers after the sun had dried him sufficiently. _A moment of weakness, of wanting to feel _wanted _and _cherished _just like he said. But never again! _Even if Greyback had _had_ a reason to want to kill Dumbledore, if he hadn't attacked children maliciously and had even _unwittingly_ ruined Remus' life, it didn't matter. He had still hurt Bill and _still _changed him, Harry without his consent. _I will never consent to be with someone like that, _he reminded himself fiercely. _Much less have kids with them_!

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he sighed and reached for the shirt and fur cloak he had taken to wearing, but froze mid-motion. He could smell, no _sense _others around him. Whirling on the spot, he reached for a wand that wasn't there and gasped as a large hand seized his throat, choking the breath from him. It squeezed, lifting him high off his feet so that he spluttered and flailed, his hands clawing at the one holding him captive.

"Let go of me!" He choked, staring down at his attacker through clenched eyes that were beginning to water. There were three of them. None of them were Greyback. The brute holding him was tall and bulky like Greyback but with pallid flesh, short, dishevelled obsidian hair and hungry brown eyes that stared up at Harry. They were like knives penetrating his soul.

Harry struggled more as he felt the breath beginning to leave his lungs, felt his body shaking with spasms of oxygen starvation. The dark haired creature holding him leant in and inhaled him deeply, rolling his eyes back with pleasure. "Oh, a squirming sub. You smell so good, baby," he panted, his breath against Harry's neck. Harry winced, choking audibly now.

"Look at him wriggle," a high, biting voice from the right snarled, originating from a dark-blonde beauty who was glaring at Harry with pure loathing. That expression was the last clear thing he saw before his vision started to swirl into a haze of colour and pain at his throat. _Accio wand! _He thought desperately, stupidly in his panic. _Accio wand!_ But nothing came.

"Let _go _of his throat!" A low, dangerous voice demanded and immediately Harry landed with a thud on the ground, clutching at his throbbing throat. He blinked blindly up at the bright sky and gasped, spluttering. He edged back as a shadow fell over him.

"No!" he choked but two hands heaved him to his knees by his shoulders regardless. One of them moved to his jaw, tilting his head back to expose the agonising bruises Harry _knew _must be brewing there. The fingers on his jawline were coarse but familiar, the claws that accompanied them digging lightly into his skin. Much to his dismay his hormones, instincts, _whatever_ they were had flickered to life again alongside the flames of human panic inside him.

Greyback's breath danced across the side of his neck where his mark was no doubt being marred by bruising. He _felt _Greyback's concern overcome with fury. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?!" he roared. Harry blinked, finding his vision just in time to see his three attackers recoiling, falling to their knees as if struck and bowing their heads like scolded puppies.

The girl looked wiry and powerfully lean whereas the man that had held him and the dark-skinned male beside him were both bulky with taut muscle. They were huge, powerful and yet they were bowing and scraping under Greyback's gaze like whipped dogs. Harry felt shock ripple through him.

Surging forwards, Greyback bore down on them, his back arched as if he were about to transform in his rage. "Couldn't you smell he was mine?!"

"We couldn't smell you on him, sir!" the dark-skinned male further at the back murmured respectfully. "Apologies, Alpha, the scent was barely noticeable until we were up close and then we thought it came from the fur cloak – we thought he must have stolen it from you–"

"And when has _anyone _ever stolen _anything _from me?" Greyback cut across him. Harry could almost _feel _Greyback's fury rushing through him as if it were his own. His body was still shaking with the shock of being starved for air, but he felt the chill of the breeze on his skin and struggled in to his shirt. Greyback cast a glance back to him at his movement, seemingly annoyed that he had moved but turned that irritation on the three before him.

"You two smelt a piece of tail and you chased it without thought!" he spat, "and _you_–" He glared at the blonde woman. She bowed even lower at the address. "You egged them on. I'm disgusted that you're part of my pack–"

"Please, Alpha," the dark man at the back murmured again contritely, "we offer penance, we didn't know. We never should have–"

"Enough, Marrok," Greyback snapped, before turning his icy blue eyes to the man at the front, the man who had grabbed Harry. Greyback roared with fury and surged forwards again, seizing the man by the throat just as _he _had Harry, shaking him while he held him off the ground. The man himself was as big as Greyback, it was no mean feat. Harry could not help but being a little awed despite himself.

"And _you, _Weylyn," Greyback growled as if addressing the lowest piece of filth, "_You _laid your stinking fingers on my mate–"

"Alpha!" Weylyn spluttered, gasping for air, his deep voice broken with choking, "I didn't–"

"But you _would _have," Greyback cut across him tersely, "you would have seen my mark if you hadn't been so quick to wrap your mangy mitts around his neck. And even if he weren't mine, we don't treat subs that way. I should _rip your throat out…_" He punctuated his words by squeezing Weylyn's thick neck, blood oozing from where his claws pierced his skin. The two on the floor winced but did not raise their heads to defend their companion, Harry noted, he swallowed. Was Greyback's power over them so absolute? Harry wasn't sure he liked that.

_They strangled you! They might have killed you or worse, _a dark corner of his mind whispered. _He should be angry. He should punish them! He's angry because they hurt you!_

_Or angry because they touched his property? _Harry snarled back, still shaking from shock but forcing himself to rise to his feet regardless. "Fenrir, no!" Harry gasped, his throat _aching _at every word. He was just as surprised as Greyback to hear his first name on his lips, but it did the trick.

Greyback wheeled around to look at him; upon seeing him upright but unsteady, he dropped Weylyn unceremoniously and moved to his side. Harry tried to bat him off but was unsuccessful.

"Be still," Greyback growled, urging him back down to the grass and pulling his cloak around Harry's shoulders. Harry fought him fruitlessly and gripped those massive arms to force the alpha to look at him.

"Don't kill him. It's just a bruise, I'm fine," he said, no little amount of pleading in his voice. He'd seen so much death, he didn't want to see anymore – especially on his behalf. "I don't want anyone to die for me. And the other bloke didn't do anything at all anyway." His tongue darted over his dry lips when Greyback just looked at him, as if he were speaking some foreign language. "Please, Fenrir!" Harry demanded then, his frustration and desperation mounting. His fingers dug into Greyback's arms and he felt his blunt nails scrape that impenetrable flesh.

After a stagnant moment of uncertainty, Greyback shook his head and extricated himself from Harry's grip, getting to his feet. "Your alpha numero speaks out for you, though I don't think you deserve the honour," he snarled, addressing the three on the ground again, who had been staring at Harry but quickly snapped their gazes back to the grass. _They were surprised I spoke out for them? Or that I stood up to Fen– Greyback_? Harry wondered.

"He's my mate, your superior and you'll take the last scraps of each meal and border patrol every night until I'm satisfied you've repented enough," Greyback told them, giving the three of them a final, disparaging look before turning back to Harry as if they had vanished into thin air. When those azure eyes reached Harry, however, the concern Harry felt before the rage was all that was visible.

"Are you alright?" That low, rough voice asked and Harry nodded, his throat still too sore to make him want to risk speech if he didn't need to. As if asking permission, Greyback's hand hovered momentarily over Harry's jaw. Harry blinked at him for a moment, unsure what acquiescing would mean in their peculiar relationship. _But he did save your life¸ _that infuriating voice whispered. He sighed, tilting his head to the side.

Greyback hissed at the sight of his neck, a sound of sympathy pain and his thumb ghosted the sore skin gently. "Let me," he werewolf breathed and Harry frowned, not understanding what he meant until that hot breath dusted his throat, a wet tongue lapping at his bruised flesh. He winced but did not allow a sound to slip past his lips. Not even when that mouth coated his flesh with a light sheen of saliva that he _felt _healing his hurt.

A blush suffused his cheeks with heat and colour. What must he look like? _Why do you give a shit? _"S-Stop!" he whispered, breathing harshly. To his surprise, the wolf immediately drew back. Those darkened eyes considered him for a moment and then they were gone. Greyback helped him to his feet and then turned back to the trio, who still hadn't moved.

"Weylyn, Marrok, Larentia, you take the hunt. If you bring back a good kill for my mate's welcoming feast it might help me to forgive you," Greyback snapped, beginning to walk away from them, gesturing for Harry to follow. Harry still felt dazed, a little out of it from the lack of air but _knew _that he wouldn't usually have followed after the alpha so readily. But for some reason, whether it was an instinct or something else, he found that his feet were already carrying him forward, away from the chastised trio.

Harry swore it was his instincts that made him move, urged him to get away from the danger and as close to his mate as possible. _But when my magic comes to me, or I find a wand (whichever comes first) I can defend myself, _he told his instincts tersely, disliking the way they so readily urged him to depend on Greyback – without pause.

_That part of me trusts him implicitly to protect me, to provide for me, _Harry thought, watching the alpha's back as he followed him into the forest and well away from the lake. They were heading deeper into the forest, toward the 'cave' that was the den of the pack, he supposed. _My pack, my home, he said, _Harry remembered, trying not to dwell too long on that thought and distract himself from the important question at hand.

Did he trust Fenrir? The bastard couldn't lie to him, he cared about him (for whatever warped reason) and he had saved him more than once now. It was an odd thought, one Harry wasn't entirely sure of, but in this wilderness in the middle of nowhere, Fenrir Greyback was his only ally and a seemingly valuable one at that…

_And he made me come, _Harry thought, a frown furrowing his brow. _I willingly did so, with him. What the hell does that mean? _

"Stop over thinking things, you'll do yourself an injury," Greyback said suddenly, cutting through Harry's reverie.

Harry's frown intensified. "You're one to talk," he grumbled, stepping into stride with him. "Those three back there, they were your pack?" Harry asked. He received only a nod in answerGreyback nodded. "Do all werewolves bow and scrape to you like that?" He swore he saw the smallest of smirks playing along those lips at the question.

"Apparently not you," Greyback mused before adding, "Mine is the largest pack in Britain, that gives me higher status over alphas from other packs. Lower ranked wolves show more submission than another alpha might but, yes, if they commit a sin as serious as Weylyn just did, they do prostrate themselves before me in forgiveness."

Harry snorted. "If you're hoping I'll do that every time I piss you off, you're in for an awful shock," he said. That slither of a smirk stretched wider across Greyback's lips.

"Oh, pet, if I wanted that I would've waited for a more amiable, submissive mate." His tone was heady and it made Harry's cheeks colour again even as his eyes widened in surprise. What the hell did that mean?

"But if you chose someone else they couldn't give you what I could. They couldn't give you…well, you know…_kids_. Not that I will," Harry said, confused and embarrassed about how those words had come out. Greyback looked down at him with a raised brow; he too seemed confused but amused at Harry's rash choice of words.

"_That, _your _lack_ of submissiveness and your wilfulness are all why I chose you," Greyback said simply, before inhaling the breeze that rushed through the leaves and the sparkling forest around them. "Now come on, the den's entrance is just through here…"

The trees did not thin as they approached it; on the contrary they were thick and strong. Their branches seemed to move out of Greyback's path on the breeze, as if they knew it was him passing through. The den's entrance turned out to be a sheer rock face, part of a seemingly impenetrable mountain that reached up to the heavens beyond Harry's sight. His head hung backwards as he tried to spy the top, but it was impossible.

There seemed to be no opening in the great expanse of ethereal, silvery grey. At first. Harry watched with interest as Greyback approached a point in the rock where sunlight bathed its surface, dancing through the crevices – glistening.

Looking at it more carefully, Harry noticed that the closest trees were reaching across it to form a makeshift archway with their branches. A frame of glinting leaves where the door should have been. Greyback pressed his large palm to the centre of this section and Harry watched in surprise as the rock began to glow with unyielding bluish light. A high-pitched ringing overwhelmed him. It was so intense that he had to cover his ears and close his eyes in an attempt to keep it out.

_~To Be Continued..._


	6. Home and Solace

.: Chapter Six :.

Home and Solace

The noise died along with the light as abruptly as they came. When Harry opened his eyes again he saw a smooth, cavernous arch had opened up, illuminated inside by a glowing light without a source. "That sound can only be heard by werewolves, it's on a frequency only we can hear," Greyback explained at the look on his face. "It alerts those posted at the gates inside that they have visitors, but the door can only be opened by one of our blood."

_Better than the Fidelius, _Harry thought, in some ways at least. Greyback was speaking with an air of pride and he understood why, he was obviously very protective and proud of his home. _I probably would be too if I had one. _He felt practically the same way about Hogwarts, which was the closest thing he knew to home.

"That's why you heard it, pet," Greyback said then, jerking Harry back from his thoughts. "Because you belong here, to us – you feel it in your gut even if you don't know it with your head."

Harry snorted, trying to seem indifferent and avoiding those blue eyes as he stepped first into the cavern. The cave wall closed in behind them but darkness did not fall. His jaw did, however, with sheer awe. Every inch of the carved rock that formed the vast walls, ceiling and floor glistened as if they were carved from illuminated moonstone. Every facet shone with blues, greens and pinks and as Harry reached out to touch them, he found that they were slightly warm, humming with light vibrations as if filled with their own, elemental magic.

"When you said _cave_," Harry began, staring around at the tunnel, "This isn't what I imagined." He couldn't keep the awe from his voice. Slender, irregular but beautiful columns stood floor to ceiling, radiating sunlight, as if they were channelling it somehow from above. Harry _swore _he could see a few clouds floating across their surface.

Beside him, Greyback chuckled and gestured him to follow him on through the tunnel. Harry fell into step beside him, his eyes still roving every inch of the tunnel as it curved slightly to the left. There were countless other directions to take, a maze of passageways and turn-offs and it looked like any one of them could have lead to the heart of the mountain, where he assumed the den would be.

Fenrir seemed to take a random path, left, left, right, straight on, right again. Harry felt quite dizzy with it all. Every turn looked the same; he could see how easy it would be to get lost and claustrophobic in here. "You've got your very own labyrinth," Harry said before he could stop himself. Greyback cocked his head to look down at him as they walked.

"No one except pack can get in, it's just an extra security measure. There's only one right route, any other will keep you circling the caves for eternity – or until the person on watch catches you, but trust me," his eyes looked full of dark promise all of a sudden_, danger_ even_. _"If you're caught trespassing here, you'd rather you weren't found." His fangs were dazzling white in the light from the pillars and Harry raised a brow. He wasn't afraid of Greyback.

"I can believe it," he said, like a parent trying to pacify a child with the reply they wanted. "You said you had children in your pack though. Surely it's dangerous to have a bloody labyrinth in your own home?" He was only mildly curious, but he couldn't bear to lapse back into silence again. He _swore _he could hear low, grumbling snores echoing in the distance from the tunnels they _didn't _go down. What on earth did they have down here guarding them? He tried not to think of the stories he had heard at primary school, like that of the minotaur that had lurked within King Minos of Crete's legendary maze.

He shivered. To his annoyance, Greyback noticed. His large hand came to rest on Harry's shoulder. "There's nothing in here that'd harm you," the wolf said with what was no doubt meant to be reassuring promise.

Harry shrugged off his hand. "Like your pack wouldn't? Those three back there that nearly strangled me; they were _my _pack weren't they? How do I know they won't all try and throttle me?!" His voice echoed slightly around the cave as it rose.

Greyback scowled at him. "Weylyn always thinks with his prick first and Larentia is just a spiteful whore. There are _humans _like them in the outside world, every species has them. You are what those rogues called you, 'Alpha Numero' it means the only person in this pack who doesn't _have_ to adhere to your whims is me." He paused then, tracing the shape of Harry's jaw with his coarse thumb. "And I think we can both compromise on each other's whims when we want to – like this morning, for instance…"

Harry flushed brightly and shoved Greyback away from him, panting hard. "Don't make fun of me, it pisses me off," he snarled, "and don't get any ideas about this morning either, it was a mistake and it _won't _happen again."

Greyback grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him in close, their faces a hairsbreadth apart. Harry inhaled his breath and then held it, unwilling to take in anymore of the alpha's air. It was like an indirect kiss!

"I could take you right here on the floor and you would love every minute of it. You _want me, _pet. Why is that such a terrible thing?"

"Because I'm only here because you won't let me go!" Harry snapped. "It's like a prisoner falling for their gaoler–"

"The point is I _could _take you, knowing you would enjoy it but hate yourself and me afterwards, but I don't," Greyback cut across him, his voice and eyes unreadable.

"The only reason you don't is because you're trying to buy my forgiveness, my affection – your way into my good books, however you want to phrase it," Harry scoffed, pushing himself out of Greyback's grasp. But at the same time he knew also that if Greyback refused to let go, there was no way Harry would have been able to break free of his grasp.

A low growl rumbled in the alpha's throat. He did look angry now, barely in control of his temper. "I'm your pack leader. I don't bribe or buy good behaviour – I expect it!"

"What you expect and what you get are two different things. I'll never give you what you want, not willingly," Harry said darkly. "Even if that makes you retract your offer of sending your…_men _to help my friends." He grit his teeth, steeling himself, waiting for Greyback's temper to explode, as it seemed to be close to doing.

To his surprise, however, Greyback clenched his hands into fists and turned away, stalking off up the tunnel. It seemed like he was fighting against every muscle in his body that was drawn taut in desperation to _hit _Harry. "I don't break my promises," Greyback growled. "Hurry up."

Eventually light began to fill the tunnel from up ahead, a great expanse of light that somehow Harry just _knew _came from the outside world. He could feel it in his very skin, just as he had felt the oncoming of the moon. He could smell, _taste _the fresh air on his tongue. "Is the den on the other side of the mountain?" he asked, confused. They hadn't walked far enough to have walked the breadth of the monstrous mountain, of that he was sure.

"You'll see," was Greyback's only reply as the light at the end of the tunnel grew stronger.

Why was he walking alongside this werewolf alpha and convicted killer again? And so _amiably_?

_Because there's no way out yet, _he reminded himself. _I can't escape him without a wand, not outright, but if Ron and Hermione figure out that I'm here after Greyback's _'messenger' _visits them…_

At last the end of the tunnel was before them. These were the gates, he supposed. Two great gates that completely blocked the gaping exit to the tunnel from ceiling to floor. They were forged from a thick yet elegantly entwined lattice of branches that grew from the ground. The same magically glistening leaves grew from them, yet they seemed to be rooted deep in the ground. It was as if they were still alive. Were they? He opened his mouth to voice his question but Greyback beat him to speech.

"It's me Echo, open up." At those words a figure appeared on the other side of the rustic gates. He was only a few inches taller than Harry, with tousled short rusty bronze hair that hung into his dark, calculating eyes – eyes that lingered over him until Greyback spoke again.

"Harry this is Echo, my beta. Echo this is Harry, my mate."

Harry knew vaguely that that word meant Echo was a 'second' of sorts to the alpha of the pack. What made his thought process halt momentarily, however, was the sound of his first name for the first time on Greyback's lips. It felt…_odd _but nowhere near as bad as he would've liked it to be.

Echo nodded slowly to them both, his eyes falling on Harry one more time before he silently reached up and grabbed a hold of the bright white blossom that Harry only just noticed, rooted into the centre of where the gates joined. Once Echo held the crisp white bloom in his hand, the roots that wound around the two edges of the gates seemed to recoil away like uneasy serpents and the gates opened. Harry stepped out into the light along with Greyback and once again, Harry's jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

They weren't on the other side of the mountain. They were _inside _the mountain. Harry stood in a momentous expanse of lush grass, a circular savannah with the mountain's walls reaching high and protective around them. It was if nature was embracing them, caring for them. The sun bathed the grassland, so perfect it could have been a paradisiacal oasis.

At the centre, the rich grass rose slightly into a hill decorated with a great willow tree that's long sweeping branches hung into a pond. Children were gathered around it, giggling playfully as they splashed each other or chased the birds and frogs nearby. Other smaller trees were scattered about. Far to the right there was a large level area, circular again but paved with the same opal-like stone from inside the cave, like a courtyard. In the middle of this stood a large stone circle that housed a body of dancing flames.

Some people were gathered around the fire, evidently preparing for the meal to be brought in from the 'hunt'. Others were scattered about hanging laundry or entertaining other small children, whilst the others seemed to be tending to a thriving vegetable patch to the opposite side of the clearing to the stone 'courtyard' area.

Harry stepped forward without thinking. Flowers that flourished in a myriad of colours graced the ground and Harry had to fight the desire to kick off his shoes and let his toes sink into the plush grass. This was definitely not what he had expected when Greyback had said 'cave'.

The walls of the mountain were dotted with rounded doors made of dark wood that lead into, what Harry could only assume where the homes of the people here – the pack. _Your pack, _the wolf in him whispered encouragingly; Harry tried not to listen to it. He couldn't be thinking like that. It wasn't his decision. That decision had already been made for him the night Voldemort 'marked him as his equal' – even if he _had _wanted to call this place home, he couldn't. Not that he did.

"Alright?" Greyback asked him, clearly confused as he came to stand just behind him. Harry turned quickly, stumbling back a few paces to put a more comfortable distance between them. He noticed that the gates had locked behind them again and Echo was close by, watching them avidly.

"Yeah," Harry answered slowly, very conscious of the other man watching him. He wasn't sure what to make of him yet. He suddenly felt very aware as well that he was now in Greyback's home and that everyone had stopped what they were doing to look at the strange new arrival. He was an intruder in their secret, safe world within the mountain's embrace.

"Greyback," Harry began, certain that he must feel the air of interest and apprehension in the pack approaching them. Greyback however, only stood straighter, with no flicker of concern emanating from him. He seized Harry by the waist and hauled him closer, quieting Harry's imminent argument with a small growl.

"Be still, pet, you're their alpha's mate–"

"I don't _belong _here," Harry hissed under his breath and he felt Greyback's irritation pique, but before he could act on that, the pack were gathered around them. There were men, women and children of varying builds. Harry scolded himself for being surprised at how normal, well kept and happy they all looked. They seemed ecstatic to see Greyback at any rate and generally confused about his, Harry's presence here.

_They can smell Greyback all over me probably,_ Harry realised wretchedly.

"You were away for a few days this time, Alpha," a soft-voiced woman with greying, auburn hair said, shifting a toddler up on her hip as she surveyed Harry with wonder, before looking back to Greyback again. She reached up (only a few inches taller than Harry herself) and ran her fingers through Greyback's mane. Harry was surprised to feel jolt of irritation, the urge to swat the woman's hand away.

_I _cannot_ be jealous of Greyback, _he scolded himself. _It must be an instinctual thing…_

"You'll have to let me cut your hair, Fenrir, it's growing positively wild," she said and Greyback gave her a small smile, one that made Harry's insides clench. Perhaps werewolf mates were not monogamous? Or perhaps since Harry hadn't bound them fully (hadn't bit Greyback) the alpha had freedom to flirt and smile at others as he pleased? _Stop it, _Harry snapped at himself, the jealousy leaving a vile taste in his mouth.

"Later," Greyback said, placating her. His hand on Harry's waist tightened again, but whether it was meant as reassurance or was just a simple reaction to the emotions Greyback must feel radiating from him, Harry wasn't sure. "Tergarletum kept me longer than expected," Greyback explained to the others, causing Harry's brow to furrow with confusion. What the hell was _Tergarletum_?

"That and the speed of your journey back was impeded by your companion," Echo said from beside them. It was a statement, not a question. Harry could not decipher either disapproval or acceptance in his expression – he was completely unreadable.

"You've scented him, haven't you?" Echo asked, the smallest of smirks touching his lips. Harry could not help but flush at the sight of it as Echo murmured with an air of teasing, "I could smell it before you even reached the end of the tunnel; he's truly your mate, Alpha?"

Greyback smirked at his beta, who seemed to be talking to Greyback as if they were…friends, perhaps? "He is and he carries the recessive gene," he murmured, his tone thick with both pride and protectiveness. Harry didn't know that he cared for either. He just felt awkward standing there under so many stares, as if he were back at Hogwarts during those terrible times they had thought he was the heir of slytherin, or lying about Voldemort's return and Cedric's death.

Harry growled under his breath before he could stop himself, an instinctive, wolfish urge he didn't have the chance to quell. Everyone fell silent. Greyback turned to look at him but it was Echo who spoke. "I don't know that your mate cares for being spoken about as if he isn't there, Alpha," he mused, stepping forward to offer his hand to Harry.

The human gesture was made purposefully to make him feel more comfortable, Harry knew and that was the main reason that he accepted the beta's hand, appreciating the effort he had made. "Thanks," Harry muttered, trying to breeze over the _growl _that had fallen from his lips. "I'm Harry, by the way," it was an unnecessary introduction, he knew that but it felt better to establish himself properly, with his own lips.

Echo's impassive expression morphed into a warm smile. "Even werewolves know who you are, Harry Potter," he said, causing a few of the young ones gathered around to gasp. They too had heard stories of 'the chosen one' Harry realised, despite their secluded lifestyle. Releasing Echo's hand, Harry nodded slowly.

"It's my name not a title, I'd appreciate it if you didn't treat me any differently just because of a few lucky escapes from–" he barely held back from saying the now taboo name that had landed him in all this mess, "_Him_."

At this, the woman who had touched Greyback's hair with the blond tot in her arms moved toward him, also smiling as if she were his favourite teacher or long-lost relative. "My name is Amoux, Harry," she said warmly, "and you will be treated differently. Not because of what has happened to you, but because of what you are. You're a very precious gift to our kind, a treasure and our Alpha Numero. We hope you will be happy here." She glanced at Echo as if for reassurance and then held out her hand, mimicking his gesture from before, as if she didn't truly understand what it meant, only that it was important to Harry.

Harry swallowed, not sure how he felt about the lump rising in his throat and took a step back from her, away from all of them. He just wanted to be _away _from here, from all of this. It was far too painful to bear, akin to the misery he'd felt looking in on the love and the home Dudley had had growing up whilst he'd had nothing. It was everything he longed for waved cruelly in front of his face when he knew full well he could not accept it – that decision wasn't his to make, even if he wanted to find it here.

It was not the time or the place.

Evidently sensing his distress, Greyback reached out for him again but Harry leapt back as if his hand were a red-hot branding iron. "Don't," he said, clearing his throat to try and rid his voice of the quavering emotion there. "I'm sorry," he tried again, addressing the pack this time. They all wanted him here, just because he had this recessive gene or ability? Or was every newcomer accepted with such compassion and understanding? It hurt everywhere to contemplate.

"There's some mistake," he said, "I don't belong here, I'm not… There are things I have to do. I have responsibilities. You've heard of _Him, _right? Well I have to stop him; I can't stay here and play happy families. I can't hide here like a coward while everyone I love is out there fighting for a mission that only I can finish."

Amoux did step closer then, setting her toddler down. The bright-eyed tot with curly blond locks (evidently not of her blood) tottered forwards, reaching up for Harry, who frowned in confusion down at him. "Our pack know each other by scent before sight," Amoux explained patiently with a smile. Everyone was still watching. "Vilkas wants to smell you."

Harry's frown did not dissipate, rather it intensified at her explanation but he leant down regardless. He was somehow under the power of the infant's vulnerable eyes and he allowed the boy to set his hands on his cheeks, to lean in so that their faces were nearly touching, nose to nose. His instincts, again, he realised.

Their young and the young of the pack ruled the subs. Harry knew that _somehow_ and he felt the boy inhale deeply, once, twice and then a smile broke across his painfully beautiful face. Harry felt his breath stick in his lungs.

"I think you know Harry, _this _is why you're so unsettled inside," Amoux whispered as she leant down to draw her adopted son back into her arms. "Your soul wants one thing while the human guilt in you feels indebted to another. Let your pack, your mate help you with this burden. Your concerns are ours now, just as ours are yours."

Harry shook his head, wanting to recoil but unable to move while the child's eyes held him. He wanted to embrace him the way Amoux was embracing him now. It felt so odd, so unnerving. "I'm going mad with all these instincts inside me that aren't bloody mine," he part whispered, part gasped with hoarse exhaustion, not realising he had spoken aloud until Amoux answered him.

"All turned wolves feel that way when they are first changed, especially one turned and then mated so quickly. It is confusing for you, but Fenrir did it so that you could not be claimed by others less…_worthy._" Her eyes darkened briefly and Harry thought of those like Conall and his cohorts who had tried to rape him, who wanted to share him around and breed him like some prized horse. He cringed. He felt quick sick. Maybe he would be sick.

Suddenly, a warm hand, slightly smaller than Greyback's touched his shoulder. Harry glanced up from his reverie to find Echo standing above him. Why were they all so concerned about him when they didn't even know him? Was it because they all knew how damaging these instincts were to him?

_They understand that it's driving me insane_, Harry realised, _they know I'm about to break._

But why did they care? That was what he couldn't understand more than anything else. He had unwittingly, _unwillingly_ joined their pack because Greyback had fucked him – that was all. They hadn't chosen him as their own. Why was he being welcomed so warmly? It was just how it had been his first time at the Weasleys; welcomed as if he were worth something and he understood it even less now than he had then.

"Let the alpha take you to your den, you should rest," Echo said, "And when you're a bit more settled, we will hold a feast to celebrate your arrival."

Harry's belly churned at the thought of a feast. Truly, food was the last thing on his mind but _rest_… Yes. He wished he could sleep forever, it would be so much less complicated. It would surely make the confused ache, the clashing myriad of emotions in his chest and head fade away.

There were more words but he didn't register them, only that Greyback was urging him away from the discomfiting crowds – his presence both infuriating and soothing at the same time. He lead Harry to a round, dark wood door and hesitated only briefly before he pushed it open for him. It was warm inside and softly lit with the same columns of light that the cave had been adorned with.

Inside the den the walls were smooth, carved from the same sparkling opal-like rock from before. A set of wide rustic shelves housing furs, blankets and clothes stood near the entrance. A little further in a cozy but generous sized fire was burning and the flames seemed to stoke themselves as Greyback opened the door, as if sensing his presence. Yet there was no smoke. This place was built with magic, it seemed.

Around the fire a semicircle of lush thick furs and pillows formed a seating arrangement. Just behind it, the floor was raised slightly to form the segregated sleeping area and on top of it, in the far right corner stood a large bed of furs. A semi-transparent curtain hung around it that flowed like water as the breeze from the outside tickled its hem, presumably to offer the sleeper privacy whilst others were in the den. However despite the fact that there was (no doubt) space for a family in here, it looked as if Greyback lived here alone.

_Until now, _his instincts purred gratifyingly. He snarled inwardly at the eagerness in its voice.

"That archway on the far left leads to a small spring," Greyback explained. "Each of the dens have one, our ancestors channelled them. They clean and replenish themselves. It's a luxury a lot of packs don't have." He sounded peculiar, as if he wanted Harry to like it, as if he wanted to impress him with his home. Oddly, Harry could understand that though and he nodded in acceptance. He did owe Greyback his life a few times over now, after all.

_Even if he is the reason I'm in this situation in the first place._

"What's _Tergarletum_?" Harry asked without really caring about the answer, simply eager to quell the uneasy feeling that reared up as silence fell between them. He felt…_odd. _Not quite 'emotional' but definitely not himself. The idea of collapsing into the bed in the far corner and not waking up was far too appealing – he didn't like it.

"The _Dark Lord _goes by many names," Greyback murmured. "Werewolves have called him by that name since he first rose to power, his other names didn't suit our tastes. He is no lord over us, we do not fear to speak his name and the one he chose for himself isn't easily used without disastrous results – as you found out first hand," Greyback said, his thoughts in another place as he gazed at Harry. He seemed to be trying to ascertain his mood.

Harry merely nodded again, pleased somehow that Greyback didn't give Voldemort the satisfaction of calling him by any of his preferred names. He respected him for it. Greyback stepped towards him then, gauging Harry's reaction as he reached out and tilted Harry's chin up to better look into his face.

"You know the reason for the unsettled feelings inside you, don't you?" Greyback murmured. Harry frowned but the alpha didn't give him chance to interrupt. "It's because our bond is incomplete. You're torn between two worlds and it'll stay that way until you mark me and seal our union."

Harry blanched. "I don't want that," he growled in irritation. "Why can't you and your bloody pack–?"

"_Our _pack–"

"Why can't you understand that I'll feel like shit until you let me go," Harry shouted over him. "Whatever you say, I don't want to be here. Even if I _do _want to belong here, belong to you like you seem to think I do subconsciously or _whatever, _the longer I stay here the more people will get hurt. People are dying because of _Him _and I'm the only one who can stop him. I don't want anyone else to die because I was too slow, too stupid or thoughtless to do what I've been chosen to do!"

Greyback snarled and seized him by his shoulders. "Chosen by who, eh?" he snapped. "What _generous _patron laid that kind of responsibility on a kid of seventeen?"

"As opposed to being chosen for the responsibility of bringing children into a loveless relationship at seventeen?" Harry bit back venomously.

Greyback snorted. "You were born to bring children into the world. I chose you because I wanted you and to protect you from _Him, _from arseholes like Conall and his brothers. But I know you want me and no one said I would be forcing you to conceive anything at seventeen," he sneered. "You're still a kid yourself. You've got plenty to learn and plenty of fucking up to do before you're ready."

Harry glared, torn between shock at the notion that Greyback _didn't _expect him to _breed _right away and outraged that the bastard assumed that Harry would allow it at all! Before he could even open his mouth to respond, however, Greyback continued with offended irritation. "I _told _you that you would get to choose and I never break my promises. You may be pissed off with the way things began between us, call it _force _if you want but I won't be forcing you to carry anything."

Harry frowned. "I told you, I'll never want to carry _anything _of yours inside me. I don't care if my body was made to do…_this. _Loads of women across the world decide not to do what their bodies were made for and I'm siding with them." His tone was bitter, sharp and unyielding, perhaps a little childish even but he didn't care.

"You will want to one day, trust me," was all that Greyback said. "But the point is, you've dealt with enough shit because of _Him,_ the way I've heard it. Let the people who started this bloody mess fix their own problems."

"I can't Fenrir!" Harry shouted. It might have been the undeniable frustration and despair in his voice, but Harry thought it was his unintentional use of the werewolf's name that caused the alpha to look at him and listen for the first time since he'd woken in that barn, marked as his mate.

Those unfathomable azure eyes glistened with an emotion Harry couldn't place and Greyback's handse h

slid up from his shoulders to cup his neck. Those large hands hauled him in so that he tumbled against the werewolf's chest and the beast leant down to nose into his hair, emitting a soothing, purring growl. Harry couldn't help it, instinctually he answered with a low whine and closed his eyes, tipping his head back and allowing it to go limp in Greyback's grasp.

_This is what Ron and Hermione feel like when they hold each other. This is what lovers feel when they comfort each other, _that voice whispered in his mind as he relished in the feel of Greyback's heat warming him. _This is what solace feels like. _Another thing nobody had ever offered him before and he would never admit it aloud, but he was grateful for his instinctual reaction to the touch.

Greyback nuzzled closer, growling softly against his neck and the hair that curled there just under his ear. Harry's knees shuddered and he instinctually reached out, scraping at those meaty arms with his nails and crooning in response. "For once in your life let someone else fix things for you," Greyback whispered coarsely in his ear, nipping at the fleshy lobe just under his lips.

Harry groaned, gripping Greyback tighter for an infinitesimal second, before beginning to struggle. "No, I don't want…" A sharp nip at the place where his pulse pounded against the vulnerable skin of his throat choked him into silence.

"Be still," Greyback demanded, manoeuvring his knee between Harry's legs and swiping at his ankles to send them both tumbling into the plush seating area around the fire. He shoved the cloak off Harry's shoulders roughly, tugging his shirt up to rest under his chin. With a low grumble, his teeth grazed Harry's torso, chasing the shadows on his skin created by the dancing flames.

"I will kill _Him _if that's what it takes. I'll rip his bloody throat out so you don't have to," Greyback swore against Harry's skin, his stubble tickling Harry's chest…

"You're sensitive because you've never known pleasure or comfort. It heightens your reactions to me," Greyback murmured. "That' why you collapsed into me just now. You deny what you are, what you want until you can take no more. Haven't you seen what denying the truth of yourself has done to your Lupin?"

Harry froze at that. He knew exactly what Greyback meant. Greyback, Conall, Echo and Cannagan, all the other wolves were healthier, stronger, happier because they had accepted what they were and more than that, their wolf forms were more… He scowled at himself for thinking 'beautiful', remembering the silver wolf he had fallen asleep with more than once already. No, Remus' wolf was a sickly, twisted cross between wolf and man, yet it was neither. It was an embodiment of the infirmed, confused self-loathing that plagued Remus' soul. He had never realised how hard Remus was on himself until he had met Greyback.

"You did that to him," Harry murmured, his voice devoid of emotion and still husky from arousal he could not dismiss at will.

"Yes," Greyback said, his words just as impassive. "And I'd take it back if I could."

Harry's head flew back round and he stared up at Greyback in shock. "Would you?"

Greyback's eyes narrowed. "Yes, pet," he replied simply, the next nip at his flesh slightly appraising but Harry thought he knew what thoughts were lurking behind those darkening blue eyes. He didn't want Harry to end up living a half-life of self-hatred like Remus. Harry didn't know what to think of that.

Suddenly Greyback began to lap at him with tickling decisiveness…

*****CENSORED. FOR FULL VERSION PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE*****

Fenrir was in awe of him. Never before had he, Fenrir Greyback rutted with a lover purely to seek his partner's satisfaction and ignored his own. On the contrary, he had always loved responsive partners but he had always been selfish with his pleasure and had certainly never derived his own purely from bringing another to orgasm. His boy was certainly a gift, one in a million.

"And all mine," he murmured to himself, reaching across to brush those dark sweaty locks from his mate's forehead. The scar stood out like a beacon of disaster on that pale flesh and his thumb swept across it soothingly before he stood up. He seized the fur cloak he had discarded from his mate's body earlier and dropped it over the now dozing form.

The boy was getting even more worked up and anxious about things because their bond remained incomplete. Fenrir could feel the wrongness of their incomplete union in his very skin. _He needed a good fucking to unleash some of those denied instincts,_ he thought, crossing to the door and opening it. As he did, however, the boy stirred, yet his eyes remained closed.

"Why do you all seem to care so much about me?" the boy asked quietly and Fenrir's brow furrowed. It was true, it had been but a few days but so much had happened and both circumstance and instincts had hastened the process of them getting better acquainted with one another.

"The pack is mostly made up of turned werewolves, only a few of us here were born into it. They know what you're going through, they empathise with you," he explained. "And it's my job to take care of you, you're mine and let's face it, you need me."

For a moment or two the boy said nothing in answer, and then…

"If you gave a shit about me at all you'll let me go," that quiet voice whispered and Fenrir heard the unspoken addition of 'It'll kill me if anyone else dies because I couldn't save them.' The boy didn't need to say it aloud, he'd alluded to it enough earlier; Fenrir could feel it rolling off of him in waves.

"It's because I give a shit that I can't let you," Fenrir said, and a bitter smirk touched his lips. "You're lucky I value your life more than your opinion of me." The boy could pout and sulk and claim to hate him all he wished, he _wasn't _going to rush off like some headstrong cub and get himself killed.

Fenrir stepped over the threshold, pausing with his hand on the door. "I made a promise to you and I keep my promises," he reminded him, not for the first nor last time and closed the door behind him, stepping out into the afternoon sun. Why he was wasting so much time on the boy's comfort when he seemed determined to be miserable, Fenrir wasn't sure. All he knew was that the scent of his melancholy left a bad taste in his mouth. It was part of his instincts and their bond, he knew this of course, but he hadn't expected it to be so…_potent_.

He had not walked a few feet from the door when he saw Weylyn, Larentia and Marrok lugging their kill to the nearby courtyard area where the cooking fire was already building. Usually the adults shared the hunting and food preparation duties, but taking on the responsibility was a common punishment for wrongdoers. "You three," he barked at them, watching with amusement as their attention snapped up from skinning the meaty stag they had caught. They wisely kept their faces respectfully downturned; evidently realising they had not earned their forgiveness yet.

_And will not for some time, _Fenrir thought, sneering visibly at them. "We'll hold a celebration feast in my mate's honour," he said, noting that while the two males remained impassive, Larentia had an odd look in her eyes.

"The bitches want to welcome him, Alpha?" she asked stiffly, as if the term 'bitches' (meaning the subs in the pack) did not also apply to her.

"We hold a feast for any newcomer," he reminded her bluntly. She would end up serving a far longer punishment sentence than Marrok and Weylyn, he thought, she still held far too much bite in her voice. "I'll give you three days to prepare, the best, is that clear?" he snarled. All three nodded at this, but he felt Larentia deserved another task.

"My mate needs clothes, the better quality you bring me the shorter your punishment is likely to be," he considered her briefly, before adding, "don't disappoint me again, Larentia."

Inclining her head a fraction so as to see his expression but not look him directly in the eyes, Larentia asked innocently, _enquiringly_, "He's a breeder; do you require maternity wear also, Alpha?"

Fenrir's face remained unaffected. "That won't be necessary, no," he said, not knowing what to think of the fact that her mood seemed to improve on hearing his answer.

"I will fetch him the best that Shae can offer," she said brightly, before returning to tend to the stag along with Marrok and Weylyn. Fenrir watched her carefully for a moment longer, certain that he knew less and less about subs with each passing day. They were so fickle…

"How fares your new mate, Alpha?" an approaching voice asked and Fenrir turned, offering Echo a smirk. The wolf was roughly the same age as him, yet the years Fenrir had spent in Azkaban had aged him more than his beta – though he still didn't look his age. Echo was still youthful in appearance, his eyes the only betraying factor, shining knowingly as they looked on him. He was perhaps his most trusted friend in their pack and so it was amusing that even after all these years his beta (a man he had tussled with as a cub) still called him 'Alpha' as opposed to his given name.

"He's…difficult," Fenrir grunted, glancing back to the closed oak door before tipping his head skyward, embracing the sun on his stubbly face as if it held the answers to his problems. "I'm used to the violent mood-swings, many of the younglings we've brought into the pack have reacted oddly at first but with him it's…_different_." He didn't like to admit it but this _was_ different, because his instincts were snarling at him brutally for allowing his mate to remain so…_distressed_. He was his mate now, he had sworn himself to him under the moon – he should fix it!

_That and the moon is bearing down on me for not earning his mark,_ a voice at the back of Fenrir's mind whispered. Just then, he felt Echo's reassuring hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked into that face framed by short, unruly bronze hair. "He's a fiery one, that's why he suits you so well but it also means you'll have to be even more patient with him. He's not the standard sub, or even the standard breeder, if there could be such a thing," Echo said with a smile. "He reminds me of Shae."

Fenrir snorted at that to hide his discomfort, but he too had held the same thought just earlier that morning. "He's got a temper on him, pride and stubbornness–"

"Those are probably the main reasons you were drawn to him," Echo smirked. "You didn't give him much of a courting period, you'll have to be patient and help him settle in. He'll come to feel more at home here the better he gets to know you, the sub in him is probably wary of so much _newness _and all at once."

Fenrir nodded thoughtfully, this was why they made such a good pack. While he, Fenrir was not exactly renowned for his thinking skills (more for his ruthlessness and brute strength than anything else) Echo was wise enough for the both of them. He _had _wanted to give the boy more of a 'courting period' but circumstance and the proximity of Conall and his mutts had driven them together quicker than expected.

"You know who he is, don't you, Echo?" he asked gruffly, watching the sun begin its slow descent beyond the edge of the mountain that protected them.

"It would appear that you took _The Chosen One, Saviour of the Wizarding World_ as your mate, Alpha," Echo replied. Fenrir could hear the barely concealed amusement in his voice. "You'll have to tell me how you managed to spirit him away from Tergarletum. Rumour had it that he'd captured the boy."

Fenrir nodded. "Later," he promised, before continuing with what he wanted to say. "The boy has been raised to kill _Him._"

All amusement in Echo's voice vanished. "He will die before he gets close enough, Tergarletum ensured everyone knew what the boy was suffering while he was held captive. It was all over that wizard newspaper of theirs." Echo winced. "So that is why he would not bind himself to you fully? He feels bound to this prescribed destiny of killing _Him_?"

Fenrir growled. It was not pleasant to know that Echo (and the rest of the pack) could smell that Harry had not bitten him back, had refused to finalise their bond. It was the ultimate humiliation for any werewolf, much less the alpha! "He was captured by _Him _while he was with his friends," he said, trying to shake off the irritation, the voice in his head telling him to storm back into the den and _force _the boy to complete their binding. "The friends escaped, I want you to send Lupa and Hemming to them – they were so far up each other's arses that they're ripe with Harry's scent, they shouldn't be hard to find."

Echo raised a brow, "Alpha?" he asked, seemingly confused.

"The boy wants them to know he's safe. Tell them to let them know he's alright but not where he is." Yes, Lupa had been a changeling of his father's and Hemming was probably as loyal as they came. They were good choices. "Tell them to help them in any way necessary without revealing to _Him _that we're doing it."

Echo was staring at him carefully, as if trying to decipher the reasons behind this. "You hope if you send two of our best out to help his friends with this quest, Harry will be less inclined to run away?"

Fenrir snorted. "He can run all he wants, he won't get far from me," he muttered. "But it might stop him from giving out these…these bloody waves of misery. They're driving me mad!"

"Ah, and here I was thinking that Fenrir Greyback was doing something selfless just to please his new young mate?" Echo murmured, an air of playfulness in his deep voice. Fenrir glared. He did _not _appreciate being teased and his expression quickly snuffed the sound from Echo's voice when the man continued. "It's natural, you're still courting in a sense since your bond is incomplete. Your instincts understand you better than you do, you know that, Alpha. If you and Harry both listen to them first and foremost, that is the quickest way for you both to find happiness."

Fenrir opened his mouth to speak, but as he did so, the wind whisked across the glade, ushering a sweet scent into his nostrils. He turned on the spot and saw the boy watching him from the doorway, clearly eavesdropping. Oddly enough, despite the disrespectfulness of the notion however, Fenrir didn't care. _Let the boy see I keep my promises, that he can and _must_ rely on me in this stupid war…_

"I will give Lupa and Hemming their orders now, Sir," Echo murmured, breaking the odd silence that had fallen. He gave both Harry and Fenrir a small respectful bow and then departed, leaving Harry and Fenrir staring at each other. The boy looked thoughtful, clearly contemplating something. Fenrir, meanwhile, did not welcome the fact that still he had to court the boy, despite the fact that he'd come undone beneath him more than once now. It was like taking two steps forward and one step back.

Yes, subs were fickle. How many times did he have to seduce him? He frowned. He'd never had to really seduce his partners before. They had all rolled happily beneath him – _him, _Fenrir Greyback, powerful and insidious. This boy was different, he required more than a tumble in the grass or two to win over. _Because he's worth more than that, _a voice whispered. _And that makes you want him more, makes you relish his surrender more because it's that much harder to win. _

He'd always thought he knew all there was to know about taking a mate.

He knew it was because of their incomplete bond that he felt so…_peculiar_, but knowing the source did not help to appease his frustration any. He held the boy's gaze for a moment longer, before turning away. He needed to unleash his tension on something else. He needed a run or something – anything so that he would not go back to the boy with this frustration. If he did, he might say or do something he would regret. _Like fuck him into the ground like he begged me to, _he thought gruffly, knowing full well that the brat would have bawled like a child with self-loathing afterwards, as if laying beneath him was something to be ashamed of.

He snarled under his breath, his frustration increasing the more he thought on it. The boy would be the exposure of his barely leashed temper, he was sure of it. Was this what his parents had gone through? What every mated pair endured? Was it because the boy was a bearer or simply because he was Harry Potter? Fenrir grumbled in irritation. He had a feeling it was both.

The boy was the biggest pain in the arse he had ever taken into his pack, was the only one to give him such lip, such trouble. _And yet all you can think about is heading back there and having another tumble across the den floor._

_Shut up!_ He admonished, shoving Weylyn aside and taking his place in skinning and gutting the stag. Yes, ripping the flesh and innards from something was the perfect solution to unleashing his rage.

* * *

Greyback didn't return to the den after Harry had retreated back into it and Harry hadn't ventured back out, not even when he heard the voice of the she-wolf from earlier, Amoux calling him to dinner. The light from the columns reaching from floor to ceiling had dimmed a fraction, the opalescent glimmering walls sparkling soothingly as Harry lay sprawled across the plush seating area by the fire.

Greyback had kept his word (or had appeared to at least) and had dispatched two of his finest to let Ron and Hermione know he was safe, to help them. _But not to let them know where you are, _his mind supplied. Oh yes, Greyback had been very careful to specify that. So what would happen now? Would Ron and Hermione figure it out anyway? It had been said over and over that Hermione wasthe brightest witch of her age, he couldn't believe she wouldn't figure it out. But even if she did, they couldn't find the den without a pack member's aid.

His head hurt with all the possibilities and his empty belly churned angrily with the unknown. Greyback may have kept his word but he was still a murderer, had still forced him here and all his good deeds seemed to be done only for his own gain. _He wants me to spread my legs willingly, like I did earlier, _he thought wretchedly, curling his hands into fists, digging his nails spitefully into his own palms.

It hadn't been just the instincts and hormones, he _had_ _enjoyed _what Greyback did to him earlier. Even he had to admit (to himself if not aloud) that it had been the best he had ever felt. _I have to get out of here before I forget who I am completely. _He must have dozed at some point, because when he awoke the noise of a happy meal outside had died, along with the painfully delicious smells of food and when Harry pushed the door open a fraction, he found the outside valley deserted.

The world was bathed in ethereal moonlight beyond the den. It was still except for the willow swaying gently with the breeze in a slow dance. He'd re-dressed himself and was glad for the fur cloak around his shoulders as the cool night hit him the moment he stepped outside.

The doors to the other dens were shut, the fire at the centre of the courtyard area had died and the only brightness lighting his way came from the skies above. All the better for escaping, he thought. He crept across the dell with quietness and skill that not even years of sneaking around Hogwarts could have given him. It was the werewolf blood one of his parents had unwittingly passed down that aided him now.

Harry could feel the way the ground shifted under his feet, the way the wind hit him and his body adapted to move against it all soundlessly. Was this what Greyback had meant when he'd said he'd come into his 'werewolf powers'? He didn't feel stronger really, but certainly more adept, more nimble. He didn't know that he liked that he was changing but if it helped him to escape tonight…

Making his way over to the gate he and Greyback had stepped through earlier, he found it (oddly) without a guard. He inhaled the air deeply, but the surroundings were so full of scents that his growing senses were unable to tell if anyone was nearby. He spied the blossom that the beta wolf, Echo had plucked from the vines, which were again wrapped like chains around the impenetrable wooden gates. Would it react somehow to his touch? Or was it as Greyback had said, he was part of the pack now? There was only one way to tell, he supposed.

Leaning up on his tiptoes with an arm outstretched, Harry _just _managed to skim the blossom with his fingertips. Suddenly, movement behind him sent him whirling around on instinct, bringing him face to face with the bronze-haired beta wolf himself. _Shit._ He'd been caught!

Unreadable blue eyes were focused on his face calculatingly and though Echo only stood a few inches above his own height, Harry could not help but feel that he was still as intimidating as Greyback and the other, bulkier wolves. Harry shifted slightly, trying not to betray his unease. Perhaps it was the sub in him but he felt the need to move back, move back and yet raise his chin and demand submission at the same time. He was the alpha's bitch but the union wasn't fully bound. It almost physically hurt it was so confusing. He felt torn. He didn't know what to do.

Caught between the two instincts, those of an alpha numero and those of a sub, he snapped his head to the side, wincing in pain. What _was _this unbearable confusion in his chest? It was like someone was crushing his lungs! He couldn't breathe properly. It was as if the airways of a sub and alpha moved in two different ways and until he knew which he was, he would remain poised like this on the edge of both. _Torn. _

"I can't let you go," Echo said, his voice low and calm. His eyes shone darkly in the night. The moon illuminated his tanned face and Harry could not see any expression or mood there. It was completely vacant. His skin tingled oddly, unpleasantly. He was both unmated and mated at once, another source of disorientating confusion…

Grinding his teeth together determinedly, he forced himself to face the werewolf again and barked out harshly, "well I'm not bloody going back!" He dropped unceremoniously to the floor and laid back against mountainside, saying clearly with his body that he wasn't moving from that spot. To his surprise, rather than haul him to his feet and drag him back, Echo merely watched him, the smooth line of his mouth cracking into a small smile.

"Well, I'd best keep you company then," he said conversationally, sitting down a few feet from Harry in the same slightly inclined position, his back against the wall of the mountain. The werewolf turned his head skyward, staring at the stars with placid contemplation radiating from him in waves. He looked so content and at peace with himself and the world. Harry envied him.

"Where's Greyback?" Harry asked cautiously. It was odd that the bastard hadn't come back to the den; he'd never left him out of his sight for too long before if he could help it. But perhaps the fact that his pack, his spies would prevent Harry from leaving allowed him to continue about his daily activities. _He'd already gotten what he wanted from me earlier anyway, _Harry thought bitterly. Except, he hadn't really, had he? Greyback hadn't come at all earlier; it'd been him, Harry that'd had all the pleasure. His throat tightened treacherously at the thought. Why hadn't the git asked for anything in return? Or _taken_ it even, as was in his character?

"The Alpha is sleeping in my den, I have enough room, being a bachelor," Echo answered, his voice polite and kind yet devoid of emotion. "He decided to board in my den to give you some…_space_ on your first night. Newcomers to the pack often need some time to adjust. Some require more than others."

Harry frowned, thoughtful. That didn't sound like Greyback, wanting to give him space. The arse wanted him and he would do anything to get it. _Include leave you alone to try and lull you into a false sense of security and pounce on you when you least expect it, _his mind supplied. Harry's jaw tensed. "Do you get many newcomers?" he asked, trying to shove that errant image from his mind. He didn't know why, but he liked Echo.

He reminded him of Dumbledore in a strange way, calm and collected, slight of frame but clearly powerful underneath. He seemed worldly, as if he could look into your eyes and see every thought you had ever possessed, as if he knew the answer to every question, the solution to all suffering. It was a comfort to have him there somehow, a similar being to the person he wished he could talk to most right now.

"Not many," Echo answered, dragging Harry back from his reverie. "Every few years we get a new arrival, Amoux's adopted son, Vilkas – the boy you met earlier, he was our latest before you. He was left on the step of an orphanage in a muggle town a few hours from here." He turned his knowing blue eyes to Harry then, as if he knew what Harry thought they were. "We don't snatch children from their beds. We adopt the abandoned, the abused and the lost."

Harry looked away quickly, he didn't want to be rude to Echo. "I wasn't any of those things," he muttered wretchedly, wishing he had never said Voldemort's stupid bloody name and brought the snatchers down on them. He grit his teeth so tightly he swore he felt them creak. "Even if Remus was a mistake, even if he didn't steal the others, Greyback still forced me into this," he snapped vehemently.

Echo considered him for a moment, then spoke softly, as if to a startled animal. "Perhaps though his intentions may have been selfish to start, we can both appreciate that he rescued you from all three of those things? Things sometimes have a way of turning out alright, even if they don't start as such," he said warmly, turning his gaze back to the stars once more.

As he lifted his head skyward again, however, Harry watched the moonlight streak across a long, jagged, angry looking scar that ran all the way down his face. He had not noticed before, it was almost hidden by his hair. Harry quickly glanced away, knowing what it felt like to have a disfigurement that everyone stared at. He patted his fringe down flat over his scar distractedly. That messy mar on Echo's otherwise handsome face, it looked magical, looked as if it must have been painful…

"The night some of _His_ death eaters got into Hogwarts, the night Albus Dumbledore died, that's when I got this scar – the Alpha and I were asked to…back them up." His face twisted with distaste. "The Alpha was heading up the astronomy tower with the death eaters. I was guarding the stairwell with a few others and some wizards tried to get past us." He shook his head fractionally, as if recalling the whole horrid affair.

"It was frenzied. One of the death eaters beside me lunged, the wizard he was aiming at – some red-headed boy struck out and hit me instead." Echo turned to look at him then, a meaningful look in his eyes. "There was so much blood, I'm not sure what happened after that but I remember the Alpha's reaction. He tore that boy to shreds…"

It was as if a bucket of ice had plummeted in Harry's stomach. His throat clenched tight. He felt sick. Moistening his suddenly dry lips with his tongue, he breathed slowly for a moment before searching for his words. "He did," he whispered, knowing immediately what had happened. "The bloke who Greyback attacked, he was my best mate's brother, Bill Weasley – he's alive and…well he's sort of like me now. He has…symptoms but he isn't really a werewolf."

Echo's face twisted a little, as if he couldn't quite understand. "But you're mistaken, there are very few like you in the world. You're a rare gift to our kind–"

"Right," Harry interrupted him, shifting uncomfortably. "I know, because I can have your kids and no one else can. I'm the only one who is immune to the werewolf venom, so even if Greyback bites or scratches me I won't change and I can share my body with a werewolf pup without being turned as well."

He knew this now, he'd heard it enough from Greyback, he really didn't want to think about it. Even if he had been head over heels in love with Greyback he wasn't sure he'd have wanted to carry a child inside him. He wrinkled his nose at the thought. He didn't think he could do that.

Echo smiled softly, seeming to understand. "Werewolves have cubs, not pups," he mused good-naturedly. "But yes, I know what you meant and I'm relieved to know he lives. I didn't like to think of such a young life snuffed out all because Fenrir Greyback's beta got caught in the crossfire."

Harry frowned and he spoke before he could stop himself, "But I thought magic didn't affect you as much?"

Echo continued to smile. "It doesn't affect werewolves as much, no. Had I been human I would have probably died from the blood loss. Despite my stature, you'll find my body is just as durable as a wolf of the Alpha's size." He gazed at Harry thoughtfully again, seeing straight through him it seemed. "I couldn't help but notice how surprised you looked when the Alpha told you I was the beta."

Harry couldn't help it, his eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably again, flushing slightly. He'd been caught out. "You're not…I mean… Well I was surprised to see that you were the beta but that's only because Greyback and the head of that group of rogues we ran into were both huge. I s'pose size doesn't err…matter when you're a werewolf?" He couldn't help but feel his skin flush darker at the insinuation, especially as Greyback had been huge in _that_ sense as well…

"It's more to do with confidence and strength of character," Echo grinned, seeming to be struggling to hide his own embarrassment at Harry's unwitting innuendo. "It so happens that our omega is one of the biggest in our pack. You met him earlier, I believe?"

Harry's brow remained creased for a moment, then his eyes widened impossibly. That huge dark-skinned man he had seen earlier? How could that be?

"Marrok has a very yielding, easy-going personality," Echo added by way of explanation, evidently amused by Harry's shock at that revelation. Harry sighed in frustration, closing his eyes and feeling the soft, humming sensation that swept through his skin as the moon bathed him with its light. He was becoming more attune to nature, he thought. Was that what Greyback had meant by coming into his powers?

"Nothing here is what I thought it would be," he murmured, mostly to himself. He heard Echo smile.

"I imagine not," he replied softly, allowing a moment of silence to hang between them before he added, "But still you try to leave us the first chance you get." It wasn't a question, it was a soft yet unyielding statement.

Opening his eyes, Harry stared out across the sleepy glade that had been full of children and laughter earlier. After years of neglect, danger and now a burden that he was far from ready to face, this valley seemed like paradise. This 'pack' was just like a family, the one he had never had and it left a bitter taste in his mouth that it was being flaunted before his eyes – so close yet just out of reach. He could _not _stay here.

"Among other things, I could never forgive myself if others died when I'm the only one who can stop him," he said simply, tired of justifying himself. Why should he _have _to justify himself? "You're wolves, you must know loyalty?" he demanded. He received a small nod from Echo and continued. "Well then you know it's…it's abhorrent, the thought of leaving someone you love behind to die. My friends are all out there fighting for this cause. I _won't _just stay hidden up here, spread my legs and play happy families with a child snatching monster while they drop like flies for me!" His voice had risen now and his breathing had deepened with fury.

Echo remained calm as ever, although his raised brows did betray a flicker of surprise at his outburst.

"We know loyalty, Harry," Echo said after an elongated silence, staring into him with those intrusively knowing eyes. "And to us, allowing you to run off and be captured or killed would cause us the same wretched pain. We feel responsible for you as you feel responsible for them, that is why we cannot let you go."

Harry shook his head. "You've known me for five minutes! And Greyback has known me for not even a week! It's hardly the same–"

"Whether it's been five years or five days you are our family now," Echo interrupted, his warm, smooth voice silencing Harry the same way Dumbledore's used to.

Harry growled under his breath, unaware that he was mimicking one of Greyback's traits. "Why does he want me so bloody much anyway if he hates wizards?" Harry snarled venomously, glaring in the direction he could sense Greyback's presence. That was something that had grown along with his other senses, the ability to feel when Greyback was nearby. He cringed at the thought, wondering when (if) he finally got away from here, he would ever truly be able to escape him…

"I don't know that he _hates _wizards," Echo said. "I believe it's more that he is wary of them. When he was about the age you are now, our pack was enjoying themselves outside the walls of our home here," he gestured to the valley, an edge of bitter, dejected anger creeping into his normally composed voice. "We had the misfortune to come across 'The Hunt' – a group of Ministry officials that sought out werewolf packs and cut them back like rogue weeds."

Harry was stunned into silence, unable to look away from that suddenly emotive face so torn with bone-deep anger and sadness. It was the kind of expression he had seen on Neville's face whenever he spoke of Bellatrix Lestrange's torture of his parents. And suddenly he knew why these people, this family hid themselves away in the mountain, in magic and peace.

_Some wizards are just as evil as some werewolves_, he thought, as Echo continued.

"There used to be lots of breeders like you, Harry," he said, "including the Alpha's mother. But The Hunt were good at what they did and ours was but _one _of the many packs desecrated by their cruelty and fear."

Harry could believe that, he'd seen first hand how fear turned even the best of men into monsters. Voldemort himself had started all of this because he was afraid of death and weakness…

"Our pack used to be much larger than this," Echo continued. "The Hunt massacred them all and the Alpha's parents, his brothers and sister all died. I suppose that's why he's as…_mercurial_ as he is."

Harry stared at him. The foul-tempered, boisterous, spiteful brute he'd seen earlier, had he truly been so…hurt? It would explain a lot about his ways, his hatred of wizards and the fact that his longing for a family seemed to match Harry's with frightening fervour. Harry swallowed. He did not like the way his thoughts were drifting, nor the way his chest clenched tight at the thought of what a horrible ordeal it must have been, to watch his entire family be butchered before his very eyes.

"But he did bite children!" Harry insisted, his voice not as committed as he would've liked it to be.

Echo scoffed at that. "The subs in our pack can't have their own young so we find orphans, runaways, abused children or even babies left on doorsteps and bring them home with us, bring them–"

"Bring them into a world they may not want to be a part of," Harry murmured. "You make them werewolves, they don't get a choice."

"They get a loving home they may not get elsewhere," Echo said simply. "That is our 'child-snatching' and perhaps it seems wrong to others, but the children are happy here, this is a good life we give them, Harry, you saw that for yourself today. Each one would rather have this life, the life of a werewolf than go back to living as a human in neglect." He paused, considering Harry carefully yet again. "Please, if you hold any other misconceptions or fears about our life here then allow me to lay them to rest for you – every newcomer has questions when they first come here."

Harry glanced away determinedly, gazing back into the darkness without really looking at anything. He felt so lost, was that because of his incomplete bond with Greyback or was that merely exacerbating the feelings he already had? He wanted to go home, except he had no home to return to. He wanted to return to Ron and Hermione and yet this family here wanted desperately to keep him here – to protect him.

No one's soul purpose had ever been to protect him, to keep him happy and safe, there had always been ulterior motives, or something more important – even with Dumbledore. He had to get away from here before his treacherous longing and instincts got too out of hand. Before he lost sight of the big picture and himself.

"You must know Greyback better than anyone," Harry murmured, his improved eyesight finding imaginary shapes in the darkness. Echo said nothing, but Harry was sure he _felt _him nod. "I suppose you want me to stay with him?" Harry asked.

"I want Fenrir and the rest of the pack to be safe and happy," Echo replied, saying Greyback's name for the first time in Harry's hearing. Harry got the impression he didn't say it very often.

"But what makes Greyback happy will probably not make me to be happy," Harry muttered into the night.

"Never say never," Echo said simply.

A harsh breeze rushed through the glade and Harry shuddered, thinking longingly of the den without realising. It was warm in there, dimly lit and safe. His instincts liked that, the neglected child in him longed for it. Slowly, Harry got to his feet, realising that tonight's escape would have to be postponed until a better opportunity presented itself.

Perhaps Ron and Hermione would figure out a way to get to him, but he couldn't just sit tight and wait for them. Who knew what the empathy he felt growing for Greyback could morph into if he remained trapped here for too long. He was afraid of the feelings brewing inside, like a flickering flame waiting to burst into an inferno, he would have no hope of conquering once it broke out.

_~To Be Continued..._


	7. Monsters and Men

A/N: So, quite a domestic chapter here - as domestic as Fenrir Greyback gets anyway ;) Harry is biding his time and plotting...

Calm before the storm you might say. 'Ghost' was named after Jon Snow's direwolf in Game of Thrones/Song of Ice and Fire. Although my 'Ghost' isn't quite so fierce. Poor mite. Enjoy :)

* * *

.: Chapter Seven :.

Monsters and Men

Fenrir kept away from his den all of the next day, both because he was not in the mood to deal with the boy's moping and because he felt their bond might benefit from some space. Sleeping in Echo's den instead of his own had not helped Fenrir's own mood, however, nor did the fact that he could _hear _some of the pack whispering that he, Fenrir Greyback, the alpha had been kept out of his own den by a stripling sub.

Newcomers usually required some time to adjust but never had they been permitted to disrespect their alpha in such a way. The whispers made his scalp prickle all day, fouling his mood so that by the time late evening drew in, he'd decided the only way to eradicate the fiery frustration was to drown it in a bath. His own bath.

Pausing at the door to his den, he reprimanded himself for even _considering _knocking and stormed in. It was warm inside and illuminated by the sunshine from the columns. But the boy was nowhere in sight. He stormed across the room, brushing aside the hangings around the bed to find that empty as well. Where the hell was he? What was this feeling roaring up inside him? Panic? Worry? It was a feeling that had not plagued him since…

Fenrir shook his head to eradicate the memories of that day and strode towards the only unchecked area of the den, the separate cove where the hot spring pool lay. "Boy?" he snarled, calling out to him as he marched through the archway. Soft furls of steam rose from the pool, a bath carved out from the floor made smooth and kind to the skin. The water was clear but foaming slightly with its heat and there in the middle, chest-deep in water was his glorious, if a bit skinny, mate.

Relief and irritation spiralled inside him all at once and he grunted in irritation at both feelings, striding forwards and coming to stand the side of the pool. The boy had whirled around in surprise at his voice and was now staring up at him, his hands flying down to hide his assets, despite the protection the foaming water gave him.

"Don't call me boy!" His mate roared back, sinking down in the pool until only his head was visible. His glasses weren't fogging up with the steam (due to a spell integrated into the lenses long ago, no doubt) and so he was free to scowl up at Fenrir, who glowered back, not in the mood to deal with his insolence today. "My Uncle called me that, _barked _it at me more like and I hate it. Don't call me that." He turned in the water, making his way to the side. Fenrir thought he might try to climb out but he stopped, seeming to remember Fenrir was there and turned to face him again.

Fenrir circled the pool until he was close to him again and bent down on his haunches to look at him. The heat of the spring had flushed that honey-hued flesh nicely. Now that the boy had stood, he could see that his far too slender torso was nice and pink. The water was lapping at it as he himself longed to. Fenrir licked his lips at the thought, his frustration ebbing away into the first flickers of arousal.

Oh, the boy did know how to squirm just right beneath him. It had surprised Fenrir how pleasurable it had been simply to give the boy pleasure. This boy was a revelation to his senses, his world and while part of him was frustrated the other was eager for another taste. He inhaled deeply, basking in the scent until he found the faintest flicker of another interrupting the boy's delicious musk.

Narrowing his eyes, Fenrir grasped the edge of the pool with his long, thick fingers, his claws digging into the rock. "You have Echo's scent on you, it's _just _there. You saw him briefly. Didn't you?"

The boy's face tightened, but otherwise he received no reply.

Fenrir grated his teeth together. "Now why would my mate who balks at the sight of me even after coming spectacularly underneath me, spend time with my beta?"

"I didn't intend to," Harry replied tersely. "I went for a walk last night and he came across me. You'd be able to smell it if I'd done anything more."

_And if you were lying, _Fenrir's mind supplied, which he could tell the boy wasn't – although he _was _being evasive. With a cocky smirk, Fenrir shrugged out of his loose trousers, swinging his legs out so that he was sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs hanging in the hot water.

Immediately, Harry stepped back, looking apprehensive. Fenrir's smile broadened in amusement. Subs were so fickle and his was no exception. He came undone gladly beneath him but went all shy and uncertain and frigidwhen given time to think about what had happened. "You think too much," Fenrir muttered, staring at his mate's body, deciding he _would _get him to eat three meals a day, even if he had to force it down his throat. The boy was far too skinny.

"You look like you needed the sleep – just how long did you sleep for?" he asked casually, swinging his legs slightly in the water so that it lapped higher against Harry's chest. Harry eyed the limbs warily, as if they might strike out and took another uneasy step back.

"After my walk last night I just dropped off, didn't wake up until this afternoon," Harry replied, his brow furrowing. "I've never really… I don't get lazy days. It was different, seems like my body needed it though…"

"Mmmm," Fenrir grumbled, eyeing him appreciatively. "Your body needs a lot of things. I'd like you to eat at the circle tonight."

The boy said nothing and Fenrir was beginning to learn that ordering him to do something was just one certain way to guarantee he _wouldn't _do it, so he dropped the matter.

"How do wizards and witches come to have the recessive gene?" His mate asked abruptly, with a suddenness that insinuated he had been mulling the question over in his head all night and day. It must have been hard, not having anyone to tell him who he was, where he'd come from and then to find out one of his dead parents had carried a gene that made him an invaluable asset to werewolves. Fenrir had never had to bear any of his adolescent burdens alone.

Fidgeting uncomfortably, he scratched the back of his neck. He wasn't good with 'comforting', he was the alpha, his mate was always intended to be the sub, the one that comforted and cared for their young. This wasn't something he was good at and yet his instincts could sense this was what the boy needed. Having a mate definitely wasn't what he had expected. But then, he had never expected to have someone like this boy irrevocably bound to him.

"Centuries ago it's said that a human, a witch fell in love with a werewolf but he feared turning her. Back then any known wolf was staked to the ground with silver and burned alive," Greyback explained darkly, eyeing Harry with the air of an adult telling a child a scary story. "But not to be kept apart, the witch created a dangerous ritual imbued with dark and terrifying magic. She used her blood and her werewolf lover's blood to gift her body with resistance to the werewolf venom."

Slowly, he slid into the water, causing it to lap against Harry's flesh. Harry's eyes were wide but he seemed enraptured by the story, caught by the flow of Fenrir's coarse, husky voice. "The story of her success travelled and as most werewolves cannot help but bite when they fuck – especially new wolves, she was sought out by many. Even a little nip or clumsy love-bite could turn a human. So wizards and witches travelled far and wide to be blessed by her, to find a way to be with the werewolves they loved."

Harry frowned. "But surely that means Tonks – I mean… Remus Lupin, he's married to a witch and she isn't–" He lost his voice to a flush, not wanting to think about Tonks and Remus having sex. Suddenly he felt movement and he looked up to find Greyback a lot closer than before, directly in front of him now, only a few inches away. _Naked_! Harry took in a sharp take of breath.

Greyback smirked. "The wolfsbane in Lupin's system prevents his body from making venom. He couldn't turn another even if he wanted to while it's in him," Fenrir explained, reaching down to cup water in his hands and smooth it over Harry's skin before he had chance to react. Harry gasped and flew backwards, stumbling over his feet in his haste. His fingers scrambled through the air, desperately snatching at the world for purchase, grasping Fenrir's arms at the last second to steady himself.

A low grumble of appreciation grew in Greyback's throat and Harry stumbled back away from him more carefully this time, avoiding his eyes. His cheeks were burning, Greyback liked it. "Clumsy, or eager?" Greyback teased, his voice raspy.

That flush touching Harry's cheeks grew darker. "Shut up," Harry snarled. "So a load of werewolves' lovers found a way to be with them without being contaminated each time they fucked, what's that got to do with me?"

Fenrir growled again, but in anger this time. "I'm not a disease boy, just like your magic isn't a disease to you – even if it burns up everything it touches like the plague."

Harry stopped at that, remembering what Echo had told him last night. Greyback's entire world had been torn apart by magic, by wizards. Thinking about it, Harry had seen more terrible things done by wizards than he had ever seen done by werewolves and yet the werewolves were outcast? Feared? Hunted? _We are the animals, _Harry thought wretchedly, gritting his teeth as he bit back his initial reaction to snap back at Greyback vehemently. He had every reason to loathe magic.

"Everyone realised soon enough that the witch's ritual had not only made the human partners impervious to the venom, but morphed their genetics, made them what their werewolf spouses needed complete. The human subs could breed and carry their young to term, something that werewolves had never been able to do before." Greyback's voice was gruff as he continued, towering over Harry, eyeing him with an obvious flare of irritation still. Yet his rough voice carried a tone of awe, a reverence to it that suggested this was one of the werewolves' most precious and bittersweet legends.

Harry raised his eyes to meet Greyback's then, seeing darkened azure orbs staring into him. He licked his lips, uncertain as ever of the thrill, the pleasure that rushed up his spine. He fidgeted in the water. The steam was starting to make him a bit dizzy. "The werewolves and their humans, they were all killed, weren't they?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.

Unmistakeable pangs of pain shuttered through that rugged face. Harry could sense that distant agony as if it were his own and it made something in his chest tighten. His hand flew up instantly; surprised at the sheer intensity of Greyback's emotions inside him, but Greyback's large hand caught his wrist before Harry reached his chest.

Harry gasped at the bolt of electric heat that burst from the place where their skin touched. He knew what this was without even asking. It was the bond pulling them together tighter in an attempt to force him to finish their binding, he knew it. The places where Greyback's coarse fingers pressed into his flesh were so sensitive it nearly _hurt_ and he was grateful to the steamy water for hiding his burgeoning arousal.

"Not all of them," Greyback answered slowly, his voice husky now and eyes clouded with something other than pain. He knew what Harry was feeling and it intrigued him. He pulled Harry closer by the captive wrist and squeezed the limb firmly, as if testing how far he could press before he began to hurt him.

Harry just stared up at him, dumbfounded and flushed all over. He had to get out of here. He didn't have any right to be getting _those _feelings about a werewolf who (even if he wasn't a child killer or hadn't intentionally changed Remus) had hurt his best friend's brother and many others. Even if he did have his reasons, it did not erase the facts.

_And I have no right to be getting _any_ feelings while Voldemort is still alive_, he thought, clenching his eyes tightly shut. A low growl that sounded imploring more than menacing coerced his eyes to open. He found himself face-to-face with Greyback, with that hot breath on his cheeks. The wolf gazed at him a moment before speaking again.

"They killed the witch and the secret of the ritual died with her, but the couples she united lived on and gave birth to many. Every now and then a child was born human, the same way wizards and witches sometimes beget squibs. They were completely human witches or wizards but they carried the werewolf gene dormant inside them. Through the centuries, they were gradually found in everyday human society, some not even knowing what they were."

Harry's tongue darted out to wet his lips and Greyback growled again, the sound more heated than before. He could _smell _the arousal coming off the wolf in waves, rippling through his skin like a pleasurable shudder. Desperate to put some sort of space between them, he tugged at the wrist Greyback held captive but the wolf only retaliated by pulling him in closer. Their bodies were only a hairsbreadth apart now in the water.

"I have no idea which one of my parents carried the gene," he muttered, his voice far too breathy for his liking. He was trying to stay on level conversation, but he wasn't fighting to get away. Why wasn't he fighting? He felt sick, hungry and dizzy all at once. His body was resoundingly empty and the fragile, incomplete bond he had with Greyback was tugging him ferociously into the werewolf's hot, huge body that dwarfed his own so spectacularly.

"Remus would probably know," Harry said quietly when Greyback didn't say anything, wonderingly distantly what words of wisdom either of his parents might be able to offer him if they were still with him. How would they have handled the news? Both that they had handed down a werewolf gene to their only son and also, that that son had gotten himself bound to the most reputed werewolf alpha in Britain.

Suddenly, a more ferocious snarl ripped through his thoughts and the hand not wrapped around his wrist dove into his hair, tugging his head back sharply. He gasped; a flash of blue eyes ringed with gold all that he saw before that mouth dived for his throat. He tensed for pain but none came. Those teeth he so feared merely grazed the mating mark at his throat, his only warning before those lips worshipped him there. Sucking hard, they brought all of the blood to the surface of his skin so that when those fangs tickled him again, he couldn't help but groan in swelling ecstasy.

"You think far too much about that werewolf, I don't like it," Greyback snarled into his neck, nipping him sharply before drawing back to look at him. His fist was still locked in Harry's hair while the other kept Harry's hand between their chests, sandwiched between both of their frantically pounding hearts.

Harry sneered, the expression nowhere near as impressive as it should have been thanks to the arousal rushing through him – that and the sensual vibrations urging him to bind their bodies completely. "R-Remus is the closest thing to my Dad that I have," Harry hissed out. The fingers knotted in his damp, untidy dark hair were _just _this side of painful in their intensity. His hand not caught by Greyback's was pushing hard at the werewolf's shoulder, but nowhere near as hard as it could've been. His limbs felt weak. Was it the bath getting to him? Or perhaps the incomplete bond messing with him? Was it Greyback?

"Suggesting anything else is repulsive," his words were terse but his tone wasn't quite committed. He could feel Greyback's breath on his cheeks. He could feel the bastard's chest moving with his breathing and their heart's beat in sync against his hand. Everything he had learned last night, everything the wolf had said and done over the last few days, it had all reminded Harry of just how _human _this man was before him, no matter how vehemently he tried to deny it.

How easy would it have been for him, Harry to have taken another path after losing his parents and after being forced to suffer years of neglect with the Dursleys? How easy would it have been for him to become a law unto himself just like Greyback? Too easy. Faced with everything Greyback was now, he found he could not blame him for all that had happened, not really.

_Remus said I always look for the best in people, even when others can't see it in themselves, just like my mum, _he thought distantly, wondering if it was her that had been the one to hand him down his werewolf genes. _Am I trying to find goodness that doesn't exist? Or is what I'm seeing really real?_

"It doesn't matter if you don't want to fuck him, the wolf in me is still uneasy with you not bound to it fully. No werewolf's name should be on your lips but mine," Greyback growled. He leant forwards, forcing Harry's body to arch back with him so until his head was touching the water.

******CENSORED. FOR FULL EROTIC SCENE PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE*****

The boy's eyes fluttered open, his glassy green gaze focussed on Fenrir and his chin lifting as if he expected something. Fenrir frowned, leaning down and pressing his nose into the boy's neck, just under his ear. He inhaled deeply and sensed the moment when the boy's better judgement returned to him. The body beneath his tensed slightly and Fenrir smirked. He nuzzled in between where the boy's shoulder rested against the furs.

"This bed smells like you, I like that," he grumbled appreciatively, his husky voice light in post-orgasmic relief. He tugged the boy close to him briefly, inhaling him deep. He had never ever been so connected to a person, so content in close proximity to them and he had certainly never _cuddled. _Fenrir Greyback didn't do such things. And yet he was now, with this young man, who seemed to be swiftly becoming the exception to every rule.

"If you deny that was good or that you enjoyed it you're a bloody liar," Fenrir mumbled into the boy's shoulder, grazing that smooth, delectable skin with his lips distractedly. How was his skin so smooth and soft? Except his palms and fingertips, they were coarse and rough…

"I'm not denying it," Harry said quietly, surprising Fenrir into stillness.

"Oh?"

The boy sighed. "It was sodding brilliant, alright? That's the problem," Harry grunted, fighting against Fenrir's hold to roll onto his back and level his still too-bright gaze at him. "I shouldn't be… I shouldn't do things like that with you – not with anyone at all while I still have a job to do, but especially not with you."

"Forget about the Dark Lord. I've sent two of my best to help your friends–"

"But that doesn't change the fact that I should be there helping them," Harry cut across him. "It's my task not theirs, not yours–"

"But we're bound. Whatever your task is, it's now mine," Fenrir said simply, frowning at the boy's stubbornness. "You really can't think of what you want over anything else even for a moment, can you?" he demanded tersely.

"And I suppose you think _you're _what I want, do you?" Harry snapped.

Fenrir growled in frustration, rolling over so that he was leaning over Harry's body again, but face to face this time. Azure eyes, still shining with dying passion stared down at him. "_I think _you were offering me your mouth earlier, pet, eager for a human kiss, or am I wrong?" The dark flush that suffused that skin with colour told him that his guess was correct and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. With an inward sigh, he got up off the bed, unashamed of his nakedness.

Crossing the warm den, Fenrir dragged a fresh pair of trousers from the shelves standing near the door and tugged them on. He was frustrated as ever, just as confused and yet whatever it was they had shared a moment ago seemed to have banished his notorious temper – for now at least. It seemed the same for the boy as well, who was lying on the bed still, watching him thoughtfully through the parted semi-transparent curtains.

"Who is Shae?" the boy asked eventually, his voice still slightly hoarse from crying out in passion. Fenrir frowned, freezing on the spot. He supposed the boy had heard the name when he was eavesdropping last night. That or Echo mentioned it, the interfering arse. "It's the name of the village you stayed in a few nights ago and also the name of my…my mother," he said, feeling awkward saying it. _Everyone _knew who his parents were; he'd never had to explain it before.

The boy sat up on the bed, pulling one of the fur blankets with him and protecting his dignity with it as he did so. "That village, why are you so acquainted with it if you hate wizards so much?"

_Why are you so interested in knowing about the man you claim to be your rapist? _Fenrir thought. He was irritated but glad at the same time that the boy was looking at him, only him, thinking only of him – taking an interest. His entire life had become the epitome of a paradox since this boy had stumbled into it, it was troublesome and yet it had never felt more full and bright.

"My mother, a human, a carrier of the werewolf gene like you came from that village. The old crone that looked after you when you were there, Eithne is my grandmother," Fenrir explained, stalking towards his mate as he spoke until he was standing at the edge of the bed and the boy was staring up at him. He liked the look and smell of his mate on his furs.

"_Grandmother?_" Harry repeated, bemused. Fenrir could not help but smirk. In his own way, his mate really was delightful.

"We protect the village from outsiders and in exchange they provide us with clothing and even food to complement what we hunt. My parents were the greatest of their time, revered by the humans of that village and werewolves alike," Fenrir explained, unable to help the air of pride to his voice. The boy shifted, staring up at him with eyes filled with curiosity still.

"What was your dad's name?" Harry asked curiously, as if he truly wanted to know.

With a frown creasing his brow still, Fenrir replied slowly. "Adair. He was the alpha before me."

"And you took over when your parents and siblings were killed by those hunters?" Harry asked. Fenrir stepped back from the bed, unprepared for the shock of his past tumbling from those. He hadn't realised how much the boy knew and he wasn't sure how he felt about him knowing the darkest, most traumatic part of his life – more excruciating even than his time in Azkaban.

Unable to find words, he let out a grumbling huff and snatched up the discarded fur cloak the boy seemed to cling to, throwing it over to him. "Keep that round you, it's cold out," he murmured, heading towards the door. "I expect to see you at the circle when it's time for dinner." His hand touched the door, but before he could even pull it open, his mate's voice halted him in place again.

"Why did Echo say that I reminded him of your mother?" Harry asked, his voice almost imploring him to return. Slowly, Fenrir turned to face him.

"He was stubborn, headstrong, defiant and always determined to do the right thing by others before himself," Fenrir explained. Harry raised a brow.

"_He_?"

"Yes, he. My mother was a male carrier like you. My parents were both male," he explained simply, again slightly awkward. He had never had to explain this to anyone before. Then he realised perhaps it was the term 'mother' that had thrown the boy off. He had most likely only heard that name given to female parents; male pregnancy was still a risky magical procedure in the wizarding world and thusly avoided in most cases. Or it had been the last he'd heard anyway.

"When you have our cubs you'll be their mother, but no less of a man," he said, his voice as gruff as ever but carrying an edge of reassurance beneath the surface.

That brow furrowed again. "I'm not _having _anything," Harry reminded him bluntly. "And even if I wanted to, I certainly wouldn't fuck you when you were a _werewolf _to get pregnant. I'm not into bestiality. Quite frankly, the idea makes me feel sick and if you even _try _it I'll hex your prick off."

Fenrir watched the boy shudder at the idea, and realised that for once he wasn't simply being coquettish. The notion of being mounted by his wolf truly was abhorrent to him. _One thing at a time,_ he told himself, biting back any retort that may have been on his tongue and turning to the door once more. He pushed it open and then paused on the threshold.

"Don't bother to take any more _midnight strolls_ in search of a way out, you'll never get out without me or one of the others," he said without glancing back and stepped through the door, shutting it behind him.

After a moment or two, Harry got up stiffly, groaning quietly at the ache in his limbs. It was a good ache though, he had to admit and his arse burned in that way that made him flush. He walked towards the shelves by the door where one of Greyback's underlings (the woman he thought was called Larentia) had piled some of his 'new clothes' alongside Greyback's.

Tugging the first two garments off the pile, he pulled on the dark red three-quarter length trousers and the light tanned shirt. The fabrics were soft and light, they didn't irritate his skin like a lot of things seemed to since the werewolf in him had been awoken. Most surprisingly, however, they seemed loosely fitted to his small frame. Had these come from the village as well? From Eithne, Greyback's grandmother? He flushed darkly at what the old woman had seen that night he had stayed and prayed he would never meet her again, for he would never be able to meet her eyes if he did.

Muffled voices from beyond the door caught his attention just as he turned to head back to the bed. He lingered on the spot for a moment, not sure what to do. But then curiosity won out. Pressing his ear to the wood, he found he could hear everything clearly.

"…so whipped," he heard a coarse voice murmur. It wasn't Greyback's, his was the one that answered.

"You forget who you're speaking to, you old prick. Perhaps you'd like a reminder?" Greyback's voice was hard, ferocious as Harry remembered from the night on the tower. It made his skin prickle uncomfortably. His mate was both upset and angry. Wait. He froze. Did he just think that?

The sound of the 'old prick' scoffing dragged his attention back to the conversation beyond the door.

"Banished from your own den by a runt sub," he sneered. "Taking that brat's _shitty _attitude and letting him insult us by not eating with the pack, as is the rule. No newcomer has ever gotten away with behaviour like this, not even the very young or troubled." Harry heard the man's sneer intensify. Who was it?

"Not only that but you've sent two of our best warriors to carry out some secret task for that boy. I may be the only one with balls enough to confront you, _Alpha _but don't think I'm the only one that's noticed. That little harlot is turning you into a lapdog!"

A roar of fury filled the air, followed by a hard _thud _of a body crashing into the door Harry was pressed against. He leapt back, gasping for breath. He didn't need to press his ear back to it to hear the words that followed; Greyback's voice was a booming crescendo of outrage. "You're probably going senile with old age, Ulric so let me remind you; I'm the alpha here and if you or anyone else disagrees with how I treat my own mate, you can fight me for him _and_ my title and lose both battles."

Another snarl of rage punctuated his words and the accompanying scrambling sound told Harry that Greyback was dragging the man to his feet, tossing him away from the door of his den with careless disgust. "But if you disrespect me again, old man, I'll put you down on that dirt so you won't get up." There was silence for a moment, followed by the sound of movement, of the two going their separate ways from the door, then silence again.

Harry swallowed. He knew what that was about. He knew that Fenrir Greyback was the most revered werewolf alpha in the country and how unheard of it was for someone to challenge him. Yet that old man had. Conall and his lot, they had dared to defy him too, had even tried to take Harry despite his claim. _It's because of me, _Harry realised, not even attempting to move from where he stood frozen.

_My behaviour, it's causing strife among the pack and every other werewolf we come across, or at least damaging Greyback's reputation. _He didn't know whether it was his instincts or his own guilt, but he didn't like that idea. He never had liked the idea of causing trouble for someone else, of being a burden on their life; perhaps it was a trait that the Dursleys had instilled in him. Regardless, he didn't like the idea of putting Greyback's hard-won lifestyle in jeopardy.

_I must be mad, _he thought, closing his eyes and covering them with his hand. _He's making me mad! I have to get out of here before I go stark raving insane! _Yes, he would get out of here – there was no other option. But while he was stuck here, it might help both Greyback and his conscience to do some damage control…

* * *

Fenrir sat in the circle around the fire. A handful of fat pheasants lay on trays beside it, freshly prepared (nearly raw for everyone but Harry, who was still absent) and about to be cut up by Amoux ready to serve. He sighed to himself, grateful for Echo's company beside him. Echo knew when to be quiet, when to just be there, he always had.

He was hungry, irritated from the spat with Ulric earlier and unsettled by what had happened to ruin the afterglow of that fantastic sex earlier. The boy was getting under his skin easier and faster than he had anticipated.

"Your sub not joining us again, Alpha?" Ulric's aged yet unwavering voice called across the circle, his white hair and hard, lined face illuminated by the firelight. Fenrir tensed, but as his muscles bunched to push him up from where he sat, Echo stood beside him.

"The _sub _is our alpha numero, do not speak of him with anything less than respect for him and what a gift he is to our kind," Echo said, loud, firm and blunt. Every eye was on him, filled with reverence. Ulric glared at him for a moment with cold golden eyes, before surrendering and glancing away again.

"Thanks," Fenrir grunted, only for Echo's ears as his beta resumed his, his dark eyes on Ulric across the fire still. "I think Ulric has forgotten I'm not without my supporters."

Echo turned to him, finally tearing his eyes from Ulric, his usually expressionless face betraying a pleasant smile. "They are jealous of Harry, I think. He is a rare find in the world nowadays and he chose you; he will give you children of your own, something every werewolf covets deep in their hearts. Our bodies and instincts are burning to sew our seeds but we can't. You have something all of us can only dream of – it's natural they are jealous."

Fenrir snorted. "He did choose me, but by the way he looks at me you wouldn't guess it sometimes," he said, still irritated that the brat had managed to ruin their delicious post-coital bliss earlier.

"Did you think you would get such a gift without a struggle, Alpha?" Echo asked with a hint of amusement playing at his lips. Fenrir growled under his breath, but Echo's smirk only widened. "He is young and new to this, he hasn't exactly had the most steady upbringing either, rumour has it. He has issues for certain, but he'll come around, he wouldn't have chosen you otherwise."

Fenrir leant back on his arms, staring up at the starry sky and the thick billows of grey cloud that were trying desperately to cover up the moon. The circle was illuminated by the fire as well as the torches scattered around, the soft orange glow accented by hundreds of tiny little fireflies shining overhead. Some of the younger children were staring up at them in delight, even trying to catch them despite how high up they were. It made the most diminutive of smiles touch Fenrir's mouth. But then, movement just beyond the circle made him straighten in his seat. His mate was standing there, just within reach of the orange-hued light. He seemed to hesitate there for a moment, before steeling himself and walking forward.

The effect was instantaneous, everyone stopped to look and Harry froze again, staring at them all, as if willing the ground to open up and swallow him whole. _He doesn't like people staring at him, _Fenrir noted, as the boy began walking again, faster this time, directly towards him. He stood quickly, as was the custom when the alpha's mate joined a gathering. Echo stood too, followed by a few others and after that, the rest of them followed, rising to their feet with their heads inclined in slight bows of respect.

Harry seemed surprised at the gesture of them all standing and flushed, coming to a halt in front of Fenrir. The boy looked up at him without really meeting his eyes. "I…err…your invitation to dinner," he began, quietly, but still loud enough for all to hear. Fenrir had the notion that the boy was purposefully doing so, but said nothing, only waited for his mate to find his words.

"I'm…I'm sorry I didn't come before, I didn't know I'd be so…" Harry gazed around at everyone. "Welcome," he finished. Then, with a wince that only Fenrir saw and a small, preparing intake of breath, he turned his head to the side a fraction and murmured. "Please forgive me, let me sit with you, Alpha."

A darker rush of colour suffused his mate's face and Fenrir's eyes flew wide in surprise. What was this act? Where had this submission come from? What was the purpose for this display of power exchange? Fenrir couldn't fathom it. Unless...

_He heard what happened earlier,_ Fenrir thought, his brow furrowing. That still didn't make sense entirely, however. What did the boy care if some of the pack rebelled a little? Fenrir would put them in their place again if they dared to step out of line. Their peaceful life here was maintained by sticking to rules their ancestors had agreed to long ago. His job as alpha was to uphold that peace. But the boy was new to his werewolf blood; he couldn't know all of that. So why?

Fenrir growled under his breath, more out of frustration at his unfathomable mate than any kind of anger and reached out, forcing the boy to look at him once more before quickly releasing him. "Sit," he said simply, gesturing to the rustic bench he and Echo had just vacated. After only the briefest of hesitations, the boy took a seat and as soon as he did, everyone else followed, seeming to resume their conversations or tasks from before.

Some eyes, however, lingered on his mate even after the chattering resumed and Fenrir could not help but notice the awkward way in which the boy held himself, as if he longed for nothing more than to curl into a ball away from all the attention. With a quick glare at the pack, the staring quickly ceased and he turned to his mate. "I'm glad you came, I can make sure you get a decent amount of food into that scrawny body of yours," he grumbled.

Submissiveness forgotten, the boy glared at him furiously, a twinge of hurt in those emerald eyes. The firelight danced within them as they hardened with anger, any remainder of submission from his previous display dissipating.

"Fuck you," Harry muttered vehemently under his breath, for Fenrir's ears only. "It's my body and I'll eat as little or as much as I want. Excuse me if being held hostage put a damper on my appetite."

Fenrir could not help but smirk at that, his mate was a submissive partner alright but there was nothing submissive about him in the slightest. Any power over him had to be earned, as he had discovered during their handful of encounters with each other's pleasure. This boy refused to break under weeks of Voldemort's torture and would not bend under normal means to him either, even with his wolf's instincts demanding he do so.

Oh yes, he knew why Echo had said he reminded him of Shae. This stubborn little cub wielded power and courage that bigger men could not dream of, so full of pride and selflessness. He was a challenge, one that Fenrir both despaired and delighted in. He licked his lips distractedly, recalling the way the boy had knowingly rutted with him earlier.

"Blimey, have some decency," the boy muttered, turning away in embarrassment rather than submission now. His voice was still almost inaudibly quiet. "I can_ smell _exactly what you're thinking," he said, fidgeting. Fenrir could sense the smallest spike of arousal through the mortification and the way the boy gripped the bench beneath his legs.

"Your senses are growing stronger," Fenrir noted, drawing that brilliant green gaze back to him. "It's a sign of how powerful you are. Usually it takes newly turned werewolves months to reach their full potential, nearly a year in most cases. If your senses are already improving I imagine it won't be long before you harness your magic."

Harry's excitement piqued at that and he visibly sat up straighter. He missed magic and loathed being unable to defend himself, Fenrir realised. He growled silently to himself. The idea that his mate was suffering the kind of wretched helplessness that he himself detested didn't sit well with him at all.

"This is just a vulnerable time for you, you know," he murmured awkwardly, not really knowing how to reassure him. He didn't like the uncharacteristic softness that reached his voice when he spoke to the boy, it made him feel…_weak_. "It doesn't help that you don't have your wand to tide you over until you come into your powers properly, or that you haven't completed our bond but it'll pass. You're not weak. I wouldn't have chosen you otherwise."

Harry was glaring again. "Well, cheers," he growled, before he seemed to realise just what he was complaining about. "I know I'm not weak, but I _am _helpless, I can't even bloody go where I want to go. I can't go home–"

"This _is_ your home," Fenrir interrupted him. "And no one forced you to stay in that den all day but you. Everyone else is more than eager to welcome you–"

"I don't want to be welcomed!" Harry hissed, again still under his breath, as if he were conscious of the others hearing. "Can't you understand? I can't… I _won't_ allow myself to…" He grit his teeth, infuriated by his own inarticulateness. "I _can't _belong here. I can't belong anywhere right now. Nowhere is safe until I finish what I started."

Fenrir grumbled in frustration, scratching the back of his neck. "And if I hadn't sworn on your blood, if I did let you go, that would make you happy, would it? To throw yourself into harms way and get yourself killed? You _can't _kill _Him, _pet, he's stronger than you are. He'll tear you to shreds and make all of your little friends watch as he does, will that make you happy at last?"

The boy shook his head exhaustedly. "What does it matter?"

Fenrir growled again. "Why do you make me out to be your enemy when I'm trying to keep you safe? Don't you realise that I don't make a habit of catering to wayward cubs?" he snapped tersely. "I don't allow myself to be turfed out of my own bed by just anyone, or put up with so much fickle shit either. I'm offering you what you've longed for all your bloody life and you're being an ungrateful little brat."

Harry recoiled at that, turning to look at the fire where Amoux was now serving their meal into bowls. There were fresh vegetables and cooked meat in a bowl for Harry, Fenrir noted and he swore he heard the boy's belly growl at the smell of it, even in his current mood.

"I know," Harry said at last, "and even though I keep telling you I don't _want _what you're offering, I do realise what trouble I'm causing for you."

Fenrir could not help but notice the way his gaze drifted to where Ulric sat across the circle, casting speculative glances at the pair of them every now and then.

"I came out here trying to do some damage control but you're such a shit-stirring arse, you just can't help yourself and you're making it all worse." Harry bit his lip for a moment, then steeled himself to turn back to face him. "I can't help but react to you, you get my back up without even bloody trying. You're so…_obscene; _I think you like making me uncomfortable and you just make me lose my temper every time you open your mouth!" His voice was a low hiss when he finished and Fenrir was grinning by the end, causing that now familiar irritated frown to crease his mate's forehead.

"What the bloody hell are you smirking at?" Harry demanded.

Fenrir chuckled. "Oh, baby, I get more than your back up," he whispered insinuatingly, his eyes flicking down the boy's body so that he couldn't possibly misinterpret his meaning. That skin flushed again and he caught his mate's chin to hold his head in place before he could turn away. "I get under your skin because you want me, pet, don't be ashamed of it."

Harry's lips parted with a retort, but before words could leave him, Amoux was before them, pressing two generous sized bowls into their hands. "The Alpha pair are served first," Amoux said kindly when Harry glanced around questioningly. "I cooked yours especially, and put in some vegetables to keep you healthy. We usually only use the vegetables here for flavour in stews and such but your body still needs their sustenance."

Harry stared at her. Her face was lined with the proof of her years but round and sweet. Her eyes shone with unconditional love for everything she surveyed. She looked nothing like Mrs Weasley and yet Harry could not help but be reminded of her. He nodded thankfully and looked down at his mouth-watering meal – he only just realised how hungry he was now that food was in front of him.

"Thank you," he said awkwardly, not knowing what more to say to one of the members of this 'family' that so wanted to welcome him into their arms. It just wasn't easy for him to accept, he was only _just_ accustomed to the Weasley family's love for him after all these years.

The rest of the bowls were handed out quickly and Harry noticed that it wasn't until Amoux sat down beside the little boy, Vilkas that anyone moved to touch their food. Fenrir took action first, lifting his bowl slightly in thanks before tucking in. The adults tore meat from the bone with their teeth while the children ate happily at thick juicy slices of near-raw meat. Harry meanwhile, had been provided with a knife and fork. Had they acquired these from the village just for him like they had his clothes? He flushed at the thought.

"What's the matter?" Greyback asked with his mouth full, swallowing hard as he eyed Harry's expression sceptically.

Harry shrugged and hid his face by focussing on cutting his beautifully cooked pheasant. "I'm just… I hope no one went out of their way for me, that's all," he said, popping some of the meat into his mouth. He barely withheld the groan that longed to leave him at the taste. It was delicious!

"You're not used to it," Greyback noted, drawing Harry's gaze back to him, "people making an effort for you, taking care of you."

Harry looked at him for a moment but said nothing, simply continued to eat in silence. He did _not _want to go down the road of discussing the Dursleys with Fenrir Greyback of all people, no matter if the fucked up fates had sought to bind them together. He didn't even really talk about his life at Privet Drive with Ron or Hermione; he certainly wasn't about to get into it now.

Harry finished his meal pretty much last and no sooner than he'd finished than Amoux caught his gaze

"I hope you enjoyed it? I haven't had to cook for someone with human tastes for so long."

Harry shifted awkwardly where he sat again, but managed a smile for her – she seemed to just draw them out of people. "It was delicious. I can't remember the last time I ate something so good."

She beamed. "You are a sweetheart," she said, but her words were punctuated by an awful, chilling howl from nearby. Harry froze. The sound carried through the night, an eerie, unsettling cry that no one else seemed to notice but him. He glanced around, trying to sense anything unusual on the air, but his nose could not smell anything beyond the circle, there were too many scents he wasn't used to for him to pick anything new out.

Then, another howl ripped through the darkness, right near them this time. Harry's head spun on his neck until he felt it _click _and there he saw them. Dozens of bright golden eyes shone in the darkness, coming closer and closer. Instinctively, he reached for his wand, before realising it wasn't there and when he began to stand, Greyback set a large hand on his shoulder, stilling him.

"Relax, pet," Greyback assured him, his tone gruff and coarse once again. Once Harry had turned to look at him, he let go of his shoulder and picked up a tankard from beside his foot on the ground, taking a deep swig from it. "You wanted to know what was guarding the 'wrong turns' in the tunnels?" the alpha said after a deep drink, "_They _are the ones that guard them. They're our pack too, they come to camp at night to eat."

Harry turned to see a few dozen wolves coming into the circle, moving towards the centre where food was being laid out for them. They seemed to be everyday wolves, each varying in colouring but all entirely normal. Normal but still unnerving, especially when illuminated by nothing but the orange light of the fire and torches in the dark.

Eyeing them all cautiously, Harry noticed a large black wolf ambling over to where Vilkas was setting down a bowl of food. He couldn't help the lurch of warning he felt surging in his belly and he flew to his feet as the beast stopped. The beast stood taller than the toddler and was eyeing him in a way Harry didn't like when the boy took too long to set the food down. The wolf bowed his head and Harry made to move forwards, to stop the inevitable attack, but a large hand caught his wrist and he whirled on his feet to face Greyback.

"Like I told you the other day, they won't hurt us. They're part of our family," he explained with the air of someone who simply couldn't comprehend Harry's fear. He punctuated his words by gesturing to where the wolf was now sniffing at the little boy's ear interestedly. Vilkas giggled, patting the big canine clumsily before dropping the bowl at his feet. To Harry's surprise, the sudden movement only made the wolf jump a bit, before it bowed its head to begin eating.

"It's not like humans and their pet dogs," Greyback said, urging Harry to retake his seat, though Harry remained standing. "They understand us because of what we are, they know us. We are their pack."

Harry frowned in confusion, pulling his hand subtly yet quickly from Greyback's grasp. "You can talk to them?" he asked, his interest pique. "Will I be able to talk to them?"

Greyback smirked, not for the first nor last time that night. "We can, more or less. We use body language more than words, but yeah, you'll be able to. I can teach you."

Harry felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect, remembering the delight he'd experienced when he realised that python at the zoo could understand him. That was before he'd known that it meant he had a connection to Voldemort, of course. "I can speak to snakes, you know," he said, without thinking.

Greyback raised a brow. "I'd heard. Show me."

"I need something snake-like to focus on, I can't really call it at will – I don't even realise I'm doing it half the time. It doesn't feel like another language," he said, not knowing really how to explain it better than that. To his surprise, however, Greyback nodded understandingly.

"That's what it's like to speak to wolves," he said simply, but anything further he was about to add was drowned out by a horrendous snarl and a sharp, piercing cry of pain. Harry whirled around to see the large, dark wolf that had been so docile a moment ago with Vilkas, now towering over a considerably smaller, pale grey wolf. The latter was an adolescent, Harry guessed from his size, his only conscious thought before he lurched forwards to its defence.

"He's not going to be seriously hurt," Ulric said gruffly as he got to his feet, angling himself slightly so that he was nearly obstructing Harry's view of the tussle on the ground. Behind Harry, Greyback and Echo rose too at the challenge. Deep down, Harry _knew _somehow that it was because he, Harry was an alpha too and he was being challenged by the very way Ulric was standing.

Harry frowned, his body humming with discomfort at the aggressive way the man was standing. He'd never been so in tune with body language before, but just by looking at the older wolf, he knew that he was loathed and coveted at the same time. He didn't like it.

Squaring his shoulders and feeling Greyback at his back, he stalked past Ulric as if he hadn't heard him, towards the place were the small grey wolf had scrambled away from the black, only to be snapped at by three others. He was effectively trapped. Harry's heart clenched at the sound he made. Perhaps he was reminded of himself as an infant, being battered from all angles by Dudley and his mates. It didn't matter. It had to stop.

"He's the omega!" Ulric snapped, whirling to keep his eyes on him as Harry moved passed him, "And the runt to boot; it's the way things are–"

"It's _bullying,_" Harry cut across him, not even casting a glance back at the older man, "and I won't allow it." He sensed unease ripple through the circle, heard each sharp intake of bated breath at his words. He forced himself to _feel_ his façade of confidence down to the core and stalked into the throng of wolves now scrapping on the ground. He was not afraid of them now; he knew Greyback had been telling the truth. They would not hurt him.

"Enough!" he snarled, throwing his arms out to swat the air, shooing them away. They scattered at his presence, heads and ears down, watching him as they backed away, leaving the runt in the centre. Golden eyes stared up at Harry uncertainly, but the runt didn't dare move. Harry lowered himself onto his level, trying to keep his body friendly so as not to scare him any further.

The wolf was small but definitely an adult, scrawny and weak. He reminded Harry frighteningly of himself when he had first started at Hogwarts. He'd been wary, uncertain of the world, afraid and small but sure that there must have been something more to the world than the misery and neglect of Privet Drive. He smiled warmly, an unintentional purring croon leaving his lips.

The wolf's ears pricked in surprise. Briefly shocked by the sound that had left his own lips without his permission, Harry made the calming sound again, intentionally this time before gathering the scrawny wolf awkwardly into his arms. When he got to his feet holding the animal, however he not only found everyone watching him, but also Ulric standing between him and his seat.

"You're messing with the order of things, boy," he said with a warning in his tone that made the hair on the back of Harry's neck prickle. This man could not speak to him like this, could he? But before Harry could contemplate it further, Echo had shoved Ulric aside, his teeth bared.

"Who are you calling 'boy'?" Echo snarled in disgust, shoving Ulric again for good measure to push him completely from Harry's proximity. "He is your alpha numero, show some respect. You know what he is to us. Now sit down before your alpha puts you down. I'd wager you won't be getting up this time." His words made Harry glance over to Greyback whose eyes were dark and livid, hard with barely restrained fury. Harry caught sight of the little ones near the fire with Amoux and had the impression that Greyback's only reason for not making an example of Ulric was their presence; the thought comforted him more than he'd like.

But then he realised how bad his attempt play the good sub had been. _I got lost in playing the hero again, Hermione, _he thought, his heart clenching slightly at the thought of his friends. He wondered what they were doing now.

"I'm only saying," Ulric began, his voice softer this time, tinged with subjugation, "that things are this way for a reason. It's_ nature_ and the _Alpha Numero, _has not had time to get used to things yet." He looked to Harry, who still had his arms full of the runt wolf. "He has a soft heart."

"He has a good heart," Amoux said from the fireside defensively, startling Harry with her support. "We are lucky to have an alpha pair who care for us all, even the smallest of us," she said, her head raised.

_I seem to have divided this pack somehow just by being here,_ Harry thought. He saw Ulric open his mouth to argue back, but Greyback's voice cut across the entire circle.

"Enough!" he snarled, glaring for a moment at Ulric, before meeting Harry's eyes. His face was completely unreadable. "Let the boy keep the cub, it might help to remind those of you who are still unclear on the point that my mate is your alpha too now and his will is law, as is mine." Greyback gave him a lingering look, before resuming his seat and taking a deep swig from his tankard once more.

Slowly, the tranquil yet cheerful atmosphere seemed to kindle back to life, breathed back into the circle on a passing breeze and Harry made his way back to Greyback's side, caressing the head of the runt wolf once he had settled. The creature looked up at him curiously, as if assessing him and Harry could not help but smile. "You're alright now," Harry assured him quietly, running the flat of his palm over the wolf's sides and neck to see if he was wounded.

"So the rumours are true," Greyback mused into his tankard, drawing Harry's eyes to him. The werewolf was watching him over his drink. "You do having a saving people thing." Harry raised his chin defensively, verging on a sharp retort but Greyback headed him off. "He's not had any open wounds in a while," he reassured him, gesturing to the wolf.

"What's his name?" Harry asked, awkward upon realising what Fenrir had just done for him. He felt suddenly embarrassed and very conscious that the werewolf was staring at his face, trying to catch his gaze.

"Ghost," Fenrir said, still seeming to be gauging his mood. "The silver of his coat," he grunted by way of explanation.

"The colour of ghosts," Harry murmured in understanding, thinking back to Hogwarts and Nearly Headless Nick. A pang of homesickness growled deep in his full, sated belly like a misplaced hunger. He hoped Hogwarts was holding its ground without him, Ron and Hermione there to help defend it.

A long few moments passed in which Greyback swigged at his drink and Harry caressed Ghost's head tentatively where lay in his lap. The wolf wasn't physically hurt, no, but he was nervous and skinny – so skinny. Harry leant down to grab his bowl and offered the leftovers to the omega. Amoux had overcompensated for his own skinniness on Greyback's orders and given him far too much.

The runt's golden eyes watched him cautiously, as if he expected to be struck if he reached for the meal but after a moment or two, the creature's hunger seemed to win out. Harry smiled as the fragile little thing leant forward and devoured what was left ravenously, nearly choking himself in his haste.

"Slow down," Harry said soothingly, running his hands across the creature's back as it sat back from the empty bowl, licking at its mouth. "Poor thing, he's half starved."

"We've been keeping an eye on him," Greyback said, causing Harry to look back at him with an almost accusing look in his eyes. "Don't look at me like that, boy. They aren't dogs or pets, they're a pack too and while ours is a little more equal, their section of it is ruled by nature and their own alphas, who in turn answer to us." He considered Harry carefully for a moment before adding, "Men and wizards have done enough damage by interfering with nature. We've lived through that devastation and have learned to minimize the negative impact we have on the world around us wherever possible."

Harry scowled. "But you said the wolves were part of your pack too, that makes them your responsibility," he argued, again careful to keep his voice down. He didn't want to damage Greyback's world anymore than he already had, after all he would soon be away from here.

"I wouldn't have let him die," Greyback snarled, offended.

"This kind of bullying can feel like worse than death," Harry murmured darkly. He looked down at Ghost who had relaxed with his head on Harry's lap again, but with his eyes staring up at him, still a little wary. Harry knew somehow that he was only being awarded this amount of trust from the weak creature because he was (technically) an alpha as well, thanks to Greyback's unwanted mark. He wondered what Ron and Hermione would say to the fact that he, Harry was one half of an alpha pair in a werewolf pack. He winced, imagining their reactions and petted the wolf absently, thinking.

Beside him, Greyback grunted in frustrated surrender and tossed his now empty tankard onto the floor in irritation. "And if I said that I've never experienced that, being what I am? If said I was mistaken would that get rid of that shitty attitude of yours?" He demanded with a growl. "Would that make you happy?"

Harry sighed. "What does it matter?" he asked tiredly. What _did_ it matter? He was beginning to understand after seeing Ghost tonight and after seeing that even Ulric (as disgusted and infuriated by his actions as he was) had not touched him. Ulric had also backed away, shown respect to Echo,a man far smaller than him. It was about rank, about body language more than size and perhaps even strength.

Greyback had said it himself – Harry was an alpha too. _He also said that the only hope I had of getting out of here was if someone else let me out_, he thought, plotting.

For some time the alpha pair sat side-by-side in silence, until at last, as the younger children were scurried away toward the dens, Fenrir too watched his mate politely excused himself. The boy's mind was clearly somewhere else as he disappeared back into the den, the runt wolf hot on his heels. Satisfied that the attention of the pack was engaged elsewhere, Fenrir sighed and cupped his face with one hand, dragging his fingers across it in exasperation.

"Things will take time, Alpha," Echo said quietly from his side. Fenrir sat up straight again, eyeing him sceptically. He watched as Echo's mouth quirked up in the slightest of smirks, before the man continued, "he's young and troubled with the weight of the world on his shoulders – inexperienced in most things, including his own wishes."

Fenrir took the second tankard of mead his beta offered him without pause, swigging it back gratefully.

"And on top of everything, his wolf has only recently awoken," Echo murmured, "Beneath his brusque façade he is a vulnerable young man that needs to be courted, to be shown how life here is everything he has ever dreamed of and more. He can't be _told, _Alpha."

Fenrir grumbled irritably, chucking back another swig of mead. "I knew I needed to take my time with him but I expected him to be a bit less _fickle _than this," Fenrir griped. "He changes his mind with the bloody wind."

"I think you will find the quickest way to happiness is compromise; bite your tongue now and make the effort to see things from his point of view. Make an effort for him in general. The best rewards are usually those that are hard won," Echo said quietly, almost conspiratorially.

Fenrir's brow furrowed. "What do you suggest?" he asked uncertainly.

_~To Be Continued..._


	8. Blood's Song

.: Chapter Eight :.

Blood's Song

Harry awoke groggily the next morning surrounded in comforting warmth and clinging to oblivious slumber, as he never had before. For a moment he didn't know where he was, but it was cosy and safe. He had never felt so safe before. That thought caused a frown to crease his forehead and his lashes fluttered on his cheeks, his mind slowly awakening as well as his body. He was lying on his side on a bed of plush furs, a blanket draped over him and early morning light glowed subtly in the columns decorating the room. But as he turned to lie flat on his back, his heart stopped. Fenrir Greyback was lying beside him, a scant inch away, fast asleep with his body stretched out, dwarfing Harry's body easily.

Swallowing nervously, Harry slid up a fraction. He spied Ghost asleep on the furs by the lifeless fire and looked back to Greyback uncertainly, still frowning. There was something odd about the werewolf this morning. It wasn't just how peaceful his face looked in slumber, or even the fact that the bastard was completely naked alongside him and radiating intense heat even in sleep. Harry's cheeks did flush at the sight, however. But no, it was something else that was odd, something _different_.

Suddenly, his eyes widened with realisation. Greyback's skin was still tanned as ever but there was a clean, fresh glow to it and though he still smelled musky and hot, the scent tickling Harry's nostrils was unmistakeably tinted with the oils he himself had used in the bath yesterday. But he distinctly remembered Greyback hadn't used them when he was in the bath with him. His flush darkened at the memory of what had distracted the git.

The length of that dark, silvery hair had been tackled and currently lay swept back, also clean and trimmed if he wasn't mistaken. Just as his rough, untamed short beard had been tamed. Light, short and expertly cut stubble now framed the wolf's face, making him look… Harry swallowed again, his throat tight. The man was all clean, trimmed and tight muscled, the epitome of masculinity and it made Harry's skin prickle with unwelcome appreciation. He'd never had this feeling about girls before. Did this make him gay?

Had this only just happened since he'd 'rutted' with Greyback? Or had what had happened with Greyback just opened his eyes to feelings he'd been having for a while? He gazed at the way that short stubble trailed up over the man's top lip. It had been scratchy and rough before and he cursed himself as he recalled he hadn't entirely hated the sensation.

Without thinking, he reached forwards, trailing the pad of his thumb over the corner of the man's mouth, feeling the shape of his jaw, his stubble smooth and pleasantly tickly against his skin. He followed the curve of his jaw all the way around, then back again to touch just under that mouth that had ravaged him so thoroughly more than once. _He neatened himself up for me, _Harry could not help but realise. Though before the werewolf had been nothing like the creature Harry had seen on the astronomy tower the night Dumbledore had died, _now _he was…

"Enjoying the view?"

Harry jumped, coming back to reality to see two piercing blue eyes staring up at him. He gasped and dragged his hand back, only to have his wrist caught mid-flight in of Greyback's large hands. He'd been caught and Harry's skin flared red with mortification. "I… You…" His tongue darted out to dampen his suddenly dry lips as he stumbled over his words. "You didn't look like this that night on the tower," he eventually said. He wanted to tear his eyes away from that penetrating gaze but was afraid of the sight that lay further north.

Greyback smirked, rolling onto his side and hauling Harry closer by his captured wrist, until he was pulled tight against Greyback's body. The sheet was the only thing between them, still draped over Harry's body. Harry gasped and froze, not wanting to squirm and brush up against Greyback's morning hardness.

"You like that I neatened myself up for you, don't you, pet?" he growled softly, tugging Harry in closer and inhaling at his throat deeply. "I can smell how much you like it."

Harry just lay there, stunned momentarily by the thrill of arousal that rippled through his body. His mouth hung open with a soundless groan and his head hung limp on his shoulder. With every breath he inhaled Greyback's masculine, musky scent and his blush returned as he felt his body react unbidden to the brute's proximity. How was it that the arsehole knew how to play his body so flawlessly?

"Yesterday," Greyback growled huskily against his throat, breaking the silence that had hung thick in the air for a good few minutes. "Yesterday, with that runt–"

"With Ghost," Harry interrupted, trying to sound irritated but finding his voice was far too breathy. He could feel Greyback's soft bristles tickling his adam's apple as the beast mouthed his throat between breaths.

"I saw…I realised that this mask of bravery you put on for the world isn't just some act. It's real but it's still something you hide behind. You've always been hiding, but when you're beneath me like this, you can't hide and _that's_ why you're so afraid of staying here. You're terrified of realising how much you want me, how much you want this life with me." He punctuated his words with a feral sound of pleasure against Harry's jaw, leaning up so that his face was scant centimetres from Harry's, his breath dusting those slightly parted lips.

"You can't get enough of me, admit it," Greyback all-but purred, leaning up to wordlessly push Harry onto his back so that he was now hovering above him. He growled in appreciation at the sight of Harry, the sheet having fallen to lie just above Harry's pubic bone. He ran the large flat of his palm down the length of Harry's taut, slender torso, all the way down and then up again, then down, then up, caressing every contour of flesh.

"Roll onto your side," Greyback urged him huskily, his long fingers still caressing Harry's flanks. Harry exhaled heavily, his chest heaving under Greyback's hot palm as it urged him onto his side.

*****CENSORED. FOR FULL SCENE PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE*****

The bastard came back up to Harry's level with a smirk, nuzzling into the marked side of Harry's throat and inhaling deeply with a satisfied growl.

"Hmmm, you smell so good," the werewolf breathed. "I like you covered in me."

Harry's breath hitched. He shifted awkwardly, reaching for the sheet and pulling it over him. Greyback sat back with a derisive smirk. "Ah, your shyness has woken up at last has it? Well, it missed one hell of a party," Greyback mused, getting to his feet. He stretched as he stood, allowing Harry an uninterrupted view of that expanse of muscle and the power that rippled through every inch of it. He swallowed, horrified to find himself oddly attracted to this man, especially now with his beard trimmed, his hair tamed. He flushed darkly and seized the shirt and trousers he swore he had been wearing when he fell asleep, quickly redressing under the sheet.

"And how did you enjoy your first night as the Alpha Numero's favourite?" Greyback asked the adolescent wolf that was still lying on the furs by the cold fire, now awake and watching them carefully.

Harry jumped out of bed, his limbs still feeling a tad like jelly as he moved over to where Ghost lay. "Morning," he beamed at the wolf, petting him carefully, delighted when his affection was answered by a small wag of a tail.

"I decided to assign him to guarding you instead of guarding the tunnels with the others," Greyback murmured, eyeing their exchange thoughtfully. "When he's fed up a bit he'll be strong enough." Greyback leant down then, his large hand sweeping down over Ghost's head gently and brushing over Harry's mid-stroke. His hand stopped.

Harry jerked slightly, that seemingly insignificant touch was somehow more intimate than anything that had just happened on the bed of furs behind him. He inhaled sharply and tugged his hand away, but could not deny the static that had pulsed through him at the touch, or the way that their eyes had locked at the same time.

"If you're taking responsibility for him you can't stay shut up in here for the rest of your life," Greyback said brusquely, as if trying to cover up the moment they had just shared. He felt awkward too, Harry realised. He stood too, thinking distantly that he didn't like how much taller Greyback was than him; it gave him an even greater advantage that Harry didn't care for.

"Sorry," Harry muttered sarcastically, "it wasn't until yesterday that I realised my prison extended beyond this den. Will you draw a line in the ground outside to show far I can go?" His tone was biting, a tool to incite an argument that would eradicate the remaining post-orgasm, post-intimate haze that still clung to his mind. It made him feel uncomfortable to think of how easily he had surrendered to this man this morning. It frightened him.

_I need to get away from here, _he thought. _Now._

"If Azkaban was as nice as this 'prison' you're in, I wouldn't have been in such a hurry to leave," Greyback snarled venomously. "I saw things in there that made even _my _skin crawl. Trust me, boy, if you'd so much of glimpsed the inside of a real prison you'd see you have nothing to complain about."

Harry scowled. "Don't call me boy."

"You're determined to be miserable even though I'm throwing everything you have ever wanted at your bloody feet! I've even given you the 'out' of blaming me to save your wretched conscience." Greyback glowered at him and Harry could not help but feel the urge to shrink back a fraction and bare his throat. He restrained the instinct. Ghost, however, _did_ shrink back to lie perfectly flat on the ground, as if desperate to not draw attention to himself. His bright eyes looked up at Harry urgently, as if urging him to do the same thing.

"You really think tidying yourself up physically for me is enough to want to make me stay?" Harry demanded hotly, ignoring the imploring call of his instincts to back down. "There are more important things than you and me right now in this world–"

"Nothing is more important than the pack or your mate, that is the absolute law of a werewolf – and you _are one_," Greyback added when Harry opened his mouth to deny it. "You're a gift to our species, to me and I've no intention of letting you run off to your death."

Harry stared at him for a few moments in shock, a flush touching his face and then scoffed aloud, glancing away uncomfortably. "From anyone else in any other context that could have been considered quite sentimental Fenrir Greyback," he snorted.

Greyback's glower intensified and he stepped forwards, spanning the gap between them. The sudden movement made Harry glance up at him quickly. There was an odd glimmer in those azure eyes. Then abruptly, that mouth framed by neatly trimmed stubble quirked into an animalistic smirk. "If those words had come from anyone other than Harry Potter I'd have ripped their throat out," he murmured, but the words were spoken with such husky desire, they could have easily been a sexual promise.

Harry inhaled sharply, taking a step back from him. He had to get away. He could not allow himself to be seduced again. "I…I'm going for a walk," he muttered, marching quickly over to the door.

"Wait," Greyback said sharply, halting Harry just as his hand touched the door to the den. Greyback said nothing else and so Harry steeled himself, turning to face him. "Take this," the werewolf muttered, draping the familiar fur cloak around Harry's shoulders. "Your dainty little body can't endure the cold like mine can, your immune system will grow along with the rest of your wolf abilities."

Harry stared at him, pulling the cloak tight around his shoulders. Even if the bastard was only considering his health and happiness to ensure the fitness of his breeding entity, Harry couldn't help but feel discomfited by Greyback's concern. "Right, err… Come on Ghost," he called, pushing the door open and hurrying out into the fresh morning air, Ghost close behind him. He could feel Greyback's eyes on him all the way.

Everyone was busy with their morning tasks, the subs seeing to their young at the circle, helping them to eat breakfast. Harry didn't pause to see what they were eating, or to consider that he was quite hungry himself. He'd been planning this since last night and he had to go through with it before someone stopped him. Or more pressingly, before his slowly growing, unreasonable connection to Greyback caused him to reconsider his plan. Part of him (the wolf part) wanted to stay and indulge in this private paradise. He couldn't allow it to happen, he would lose himself if he did.

Swallowing hard, he moved passed those gathered in the circle for breakfast and put his senses to the test for the first time. He followed his nose along the scent trail of the one he was looking for. Perhaps his senses were growing or perhaps the fact that the man was separate from the others made it easier for Harry to track him, but he found Marrok by the great gate, Larentia at his side.

Marrok (despite his muscles and his size) was the omega; Fenrir had said it himself hadn't he? He was the weakest link, his last way out…

"Marrok?!" He called, his voice filled with a confidence that did not touch his nervous, quivering insides. The dark-skinned Marrok turned, Larentia mimicking his movement as Harry came to stand before them. Harry drew in a sharp breath, before seizing his last chance with both hands. "Please, take me out on the hunt with you?" he asked, avoiding Larentia's gaze and focusing solely on Marrok's dark eyes. His only chance was with this man, not the unruly bitch from the other day that seemed to have been chastened by Greyback's scolding.

Harry saw nervousness, uncertainty in those dark eyes however and inhaled again, drawing inspiration and courage from the air around him. He followed his instincts, which were whispering to him exactly what he had to do to get what he wanted. With a small smile, Harry cocked his head slightly. Feeling like a complete idiot, he moved forwards, radiating a feigned shyness. It worked. He saw Marrok flush a little.

"I'm not sure the alpha would appreciate his mate being taken beyond the gate," Marrok said uncertainly. "It's nearing the end of mating season for most species and that makes some creatures testy."

Harry tilted his head to the other side then, feeling nature aid him by sending a soft breeze over his shoulder, whisking his scent into Marrok's nostrils. "Grey– Fenrir thinks being more involved with the pack will help me…_adjust _a little quicker," he said, still smiling. "I think it'd make him happy to see me adjusting and to know that you helped me."

At that point he risked a glance at Larentia, who was watching the exchange uncertainly. At last she fixed him with a smile that made Harry want to recoil. He wasn't sure he could trust her entirely.

"Marrok, the alpha wants his mate to feel like one of us. Let him come and see the forest as we do, what can it hurt?" she murmured with a voice like smooth velvet. Harry shivered but covered it up by broadening his smile.

"I know it will mean a lot to him," Harry said, feeling edgy. How long would it be before Greyback came looking for him? He was awfully…_protective; _he had to get as much space between them as possible. "Errr, shall we get going then? Maybe we can be back before lunch?"

At this, Marrok smiled. "Spoken like a true werewolf, thinking of his stomach," the wolf laughed, turning to open the gate. "Stay close though, the alpha will have my hide if you get hurt on my watch."

The caves were just as awe-inspiring and mysterious as before, filled with their own mystical beauty, but it was the sunlight that greeted his eyes that stunned him. The breeze brought with it a whisk of hope, breathed adrenaline into his veins. His heart began hammering and he chewed the inside of his mouth to try and remain calm. Larentia and Marrok could not sense anything was off.

"Stay close," Marrok said as the gateway into the cave sealed itself behind them and they began to walk into the forest. "Like I said, some species get tetchy around this time. They're either breeding or caring for young ones. Easily pissed off. I may be the omega, Alpha Numero but you're not yet up to your full strength." Marrok gave Harry a nervous yet reassuring smile, Larentia, however was considering them both with a peculiar look in her eyes.

"There's a lot to be done and I work best alone," she murmured and Harry had the distinct impression that she wanted as little to do with him as possible. He'd thought that when she had entered Greyback's den the either day, setting his new clothes on the shelves along with Greyback's without saying a word to him.

Marrok seemed to have the same impression. He glanced at Harry before meeting Larentia's gaze once more. "The alpha numero and I will take to the river for some fishing," he said and with a small nod, Larentia vanished into the forest. There was a long, drawn out silence where nothing was heard except the birds singing gleefully in the trees. Then, at last, Marrok turned to face Harry once more, his eyes still not quite meeting Harry's (out of respect).

"The river?" he suggested brightly.

Marrok may have been the omega but he certainly wasn't without skill or strength. Harry watched in awe as the man perched on all fours on the riverbank and snatched a fat, frantically writhing fish from the water's depths with his bare hands. Marrok smiled at him shyly, embarrassed by Harry's admiration.

"It's nothing, really Numero, you will learn too with time."

Harry managed an uneasy smile as Marrok went back to his task, his intense dark eyes focussed on the shadows moving so subtly in the deep water that only wolf eyes could see. Harry watched him carefully. There was no way he could outrun him and even if he wished to fight him, he could not hope to win. It would have to be _exactly _the right time…

"Errr, Marrok?" Harry asked after the sun had risen higher in the sky and Marrok had been still and patient in his wait for the next fish for some time.

"Mmm?" the large wolf responded without so much as blinking, still keeping his eyes on the water. Harry envied his patience, his concentration. He could have learned a lot from Marrok and perhaps Amoux and Echo as well if he had stayed…

"I err…I need the loo, do you mind if I just…?" Harry gestured to the thick glade of trees just behind him. He was on the opposite side of the river to Marrok, not only so he could better observe him and his task but also to keep his shadow and fidgeting movements away from the sensitive fishing area. It was all about being still and patient, Marrok had told him and Harry had sheepishly moved to the other side then, admitting he didn't have either requirement.

"Yeah, not too far in though," Marrok muttered distractedly, his clawed hand hovering silently over the water now. He still did not look up and Harry took his chance.

"No, not too far," he agreed, getting to his feet. Without betraying his dishonesty, Harry swiftly but silently vanished into the cover of trees, Ghost hot on his tail and mimicking his soft-footedness. His wolf inheritance was slowly blooming. He could feel it now, allowing him to move in perfect silence and haste through the trees without so much as a backward glance at Marrok. Poor Marrok, he hoped Greyback wouldn't punish him for letting him escape – that was his last thought before he broke into a soundless run.

The sun peeped in and out of the trees as he bolted forwards, weaving in and out of them with speed and ease. He was going to do it this time he knew it! Just for good measure through, he threw himself into a branch of the river before him and snatched up a handful of flowers growing there on the bank. It was the very same species of flower he had used to cover his scent that full moon night and he rubbed it hastily over himself to hide his smell for when Greyback _did _come looking. Harry knew he would. The git could sense his moods, but could not track him unless he could follow his scent.

Hopping out of the water, Harry flew into a sprint again, following his senses and the cool spring breeze through the forest. He didn't know what he was going to do next; this was as far as his plan took him, now he was winging it. _But I will get away, _he thought resolutely, sure of it this time.

Ghost looked in his element beside him, his tongue hanging out his mouth as he ran, panting with eyes bright and the wind rushing through his fur. Harry beamed at him. "Good boy, come on, I'll race you!"

The trees were beginning to thin but Harry could tell by the formation of the breeze that they were still a fair way from the forest's edge. He and Ghost slowed, breathing hard but escape was still in Harry's sights. There was no full moon this time to thwart his attempts at escape. Once he was out of the forest he would follow his nose to the nearest village, it was his only chance without a wand.

Suddenly, movement from his right stilled him in his steps. Ghost's muscles tightened, his frame arching into a wary stance, as if readying to either pounce or flee. Harry mimicked his posture unconsciously, only just restraining the urge to reach for his absent wand. He grit his teeth. He hated not having his wand, he felt naked without it. His improving sense of smell, however could not identify the creature nearby. Did that mean it was neither human nor wolf?

"Easy, Ghost," Harry said, holding an arm out to silence him. The wolf may have enjoyed that trot with him just then but he still wasn't at his full strength. Just then, a shape emerged from the trees just before him. It was a peculiar creature that took a moment to register in his mind. "A griffin," he murmured with awe and wariness both, studying the beast. It was an infant; there was no doubt of that. It was little bigger than a horse's foal, infancy betrayed by flecks of muddy brown in its glorious golden coat. The feathers at its torso were fluffy and useless, like that of a baby bird and its wings flapped feebly, looking ridiculously big for its body. Harry had seen images and statues of griffins, but never a real one – not this close anyway.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he glanced to Ghost who was still tense and watching the baby griffin uncertainly as it ambled towards them, crooning curiously. It trotted unstably to Harry's side, seeming to be sizing him up. _Probably never seen a human before,_ Harry reasoned, or wolf, whatever he was now. "I don't have any food for you," he said to the griffin, taking a step back from it slowly. He didn't want to frighten it, griffins were notoriously twitchy and even this little one could do some damage with those already blooming talons.

The griffin tried to span the gap between them again. Harry frowned when the creature nudged his hand with interest. _I held one of the fish earlier, _Harry realised, remembering his first failed attempt at catching one – before he had moved himself to the opposite side of the bank to let Marrok get to work. "I don't have any fish for you," he said, taking a few steps back this time and turning his head a fraction so that he could see Ghost out of the corner of his eye. "Let's go before mum and dad turn up," he muttered.

Turning, he began to brisk-walk away from the beast, feeling Ghost hugging his side as he followed suit. A sharp yelp of pain halted him in his steps. Whirling around, he saw the Griffin's already razor sharp beak locked tightly around Ghost's tail. "Get off him!" he snarled, surging forwards and swatting the griffin's beak. He did not let go and the wolf's cries intensified into an all out scream as blood began to weep from where that beak was clamped around his tail. "Get off!" Harry roared with wolfish fury, seizing a fallen branch from the ground and bringing it down with violent desperation on the griffin's head.

The beast yipped with shock, releasing Ghost and staggering back. Harry moved in front of Ghost, who was now cowering behind him, his wounded tail tucked between his legs. The griffin shook his head as if to brush off the confusion, his feeble wings flapping as a horrid squawking filled the forest. "Stay back!" Harry snapped, holding the branch out before him in warning. He didn't care if it was a baby, it was still a dangerous creature and he wouldn't allow it to hurt Ghost. As far as he was concerned, this little runt that nobody seemed concerned about before he'd arrived would never be harmed again.

Suddenly, the sound of wings and a resounding _slam _of something heavy hitting the ground made his blood run cold. He turned on his heel and his heart jerked in fear. Mum and Dad had heard their baby's cries. The father was extensively larger. Golden feathers rippled over the muscles beneath as he flew at Harry with an almighty screech. The talons of his front legs shot out, sliced spitefully through the flesh of Harry's torso. Harry screamed, stumbling backwards and felt Ghost at his side. A warning snarl rose from his furred companion that was swiftly drowned out by another scream of fury from behind them.

The female was behind him and Harry rolled out of the way just in time, hearing that serrated beak snap shut on thin air where he had been moments before. He was trapped. Ghost roared, the sound nowhere near as ferocious as the griffins' screams but tearing through the air with equal force as he leapt straight for the throat of the father as he bore down on Harry again. "No!" Harry cried as the wolf was batted aside. He threw his legs up, kicking the male griffin hard in its gizzard. It choked, spluttered and withdrew, giving Harry chance to scramble to his feet, putting himself between the raging female and the place where Ghost was staggering to his feet.

Harry glanced around in panic, where was that stick he'd had a moment ago? Where was his bloody wand when he needed it?! Why hadn't Dumbledore ever taught him to harness wandless magic like him? _Now would be a good time to come into those werewolf powers_, he thought bitterly, watching the female approach, her wings raised threateningly, her talons swiping through the air at him.

Harry shot back to avoid the grasping claws, stumbling over himself in his haste. His hand was sliced open on a jagged rock on the ground. Without pause, he seized it. Ghost was behind him, snapping and snarling, trying to reverse their positions and put himself between Harry and the griffins.

They were all three surrounding him now and Harry had the briefest moment to decide which to fend off with the sharp rock before they pounced.

A howl filled with raw aggression tore through the air as the shadows of the attacking beasts fell over Harry. The next thing he knew, the female had been torn off him and sent rolling to the side, straight into the male. Before he could gather his wits he saw a flash of silver swipe at the infant where it had closed in on him and it too stumbled back. Harry was frozen in place in the dirt. His sliced chest was protesting with every rapid breath he took and his palm was stinging as he watched the familiar silver wolf standing before him, every muscle taut and prepared for battle.

The sunlight danced across his fur where he stood for the longest moment before the feathered beasts launched themselves at him again – all at once. Ghost was low on his belly, submitting to the alpha without even a glance required. Harry felt the urge to mimic the motion, to prostrate himself on the ground until his alpha was ready to deal with him, but fear, adrenaline and his pounding heart held him in place.

Everything was fast movement, snarling, screaming, claws and fangs with blood painting the air. Harry watched as the female was thrown through the air, Greyback's fangs snapping at her and the male's talons slicing into Greyback's side. He was strong but so were they and _they_ didn't have him, Harry as a distraction. With Greyback's snarl of pain tearing through the air, the female circled, shooting towards Harry. Fenrir snapped at her, backing her away from Harry and Ghost. The male dived, taking advantage of Greyback's distraction and slamming hard into his bleeding side.

Blood stained that glossy silver coat as Greyback roared, biting hard into the female's wing until she screeched, writhing and fighting against his hold, which released as the male advanced on Harry again. Harry was a clear weakness and the beasts were using that to their advantage. Harry seized the branch he'd dropped earlier and brought it down hard on the male's beak. Ghost lunged for that throat, his fangs drawing thick rivulets of blood.

Greyback swiped at the male, his massive paw sending the creature sprawling away from Harry but as he did, the female struck back in vengeance. Harry watched in horrified slow motion. The female's screeching rang like a warning siren in his ears as he watched her talons slice sharply through Greyback's neck. "No!" Harry screamed, bolting forwards. The female reared as Greyback howled in agony, her bloody claws cutting through his shirt and biting into his forearm beneath.

Hissing with pain, Harry glanced frantically around, his eyes finding the infant that had started this mess. It was rearing back from Ghost, who was snarling snapping at his feet. Harry launched the branch at it, startling the beast and sending it bolting into the trees with a cry. Ghost barely jumped out of the way in time to avoid being trampled by the parents as they shot after it. Keeping his eyes focussed cautiously on the trees where their foes had vanished, he ambled over to where Harry had dropped to his knees Greyback's side.

Greyback was a wolf still, lying on his side and giving great choking breaths that made blood weep from his side and throat. Harry stared from one wound to another, before pressing his hand over the wound on the wolf's throat, trying to slow the bleeding. As he did so, the glossy silver fur vanished, leaving a sweating, spluttering Greyback lying naked in its place.

Harry kept the pressure on his throat, staring down at him, ignoring the biting pain in his own chest and arm. Ghost was standing beside him, watching them both carefully. Harry grimaced. "Tell me what to do," he demanded breathlessly, "tell me how to help you!"

"Stop…running…_away_!" Greyback snarled, choking on his own words. Blood oozed sickeningly from under Harry's fingers. He pressed harder.

"I can't. That's why you have to let me go–"

"C-Can't!" Greyback snarled, his eyes full of fire even as Harry felt the power, the sheer strength in his body flowing freely out of the wound under his hand. "S-swore on your…your bloody life that I wouldn't let you go!" Every word was a painful gasp and yet Harry could not help but feel surprise at that revelation. This combined with the impenetrable shield their connection provided told him _exactly_ why Voldemort didn't fear his escape. Voldemort would know the moment Harry was out of range of Greyback, because he would be able to sense him again, to gain access to his mind without Greyback's interference. Greyback would not be able to let him go even if he wanted to. That thought both horrified and confused him, but now was not the time for it.

With a wince, Harry pulled his shirt off over his head and pressed the rolled up fabric to Greyback's throat. "Hold it there," he instructed the alpha, removing his hand only when Greyback replaced it with his own, keeping the pressure there. He could see those blue eyes glazing over. He was losing too much blood, even for a werewolf – a throat wound was lethal to any species.

The forest around them was quiet, deathly quiet in the wake of their battle and in that silence Harry heard that treacherous, whispering voice inside him rise up. Greyback was seriously wounded; he could barely hold the cloth to his bleeding neck. If there was any opportunity where he was certain to get away successfully, it was now.

The path to freedom was clear and yet he could not take it. _I can't leave him here, _he thought, gritting his teeth so hard that he felt his jaw ache. "Ghost," Harry said stiffly, shoving the temptation to flee back down his throat where a lump had formed. "Ghost, call Marrok, he must be nearby still. Call him," he ordered. The wolf tipped his head to the side with puppyish thoughtfulness, before throwing his head back with a desperate mournful howl. There was no way Marrok could ignore that sound.

"Tell me what to do," Harry gasped as Ghost howled, his hands hovering uselessly over Greyback's body. When the alpha said nothing, panic seized him. "For fuck sake Fenrir!" he snarled, finally forcing those glazed eyes to open and focus on him. He watched the fingers clenched around the cloth tighten, before the other hand rose shakily, coming to land clumsily on Harry's shoulder.

"Worried about me, eh?" Greyback murmured, blood leaking from his lips. Harry's eyes widened.

"I never wanted you to get hurt you bastard!" He declared. "Tell me how to save you!" The hand on his shoulder slid down gesturing near his mouth, beckoning Harry closer. Harry leant down, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew how much blood a human man could lose before he died, but what about werewolves?

"Y-Your mouth…!" Greyback gasped, his words dusting Harry's cheeks and instantly, Harry knew what he meant.

"But I – I'm a–"

"A werewolf, and…if nothing else…will convince you maybe…_this _will…!" Greyback coughed, choked on his own words and blood wept from his lips as he pulled the crimson-stained cloth from his torn throat. "Only the…alpha's mate can…tend his wounds…"

Harry swallowed hard, a twinge of revulsion twisting his gut. But Greyback's skin was going paler than he'd ever seen it and blood was staining the grass beneath them, forming a foreboding crimson pool. He had done more repulsive things and moreover, he couldn't allow anyone to die because of him.

_I can't allow my mate to die, _something whispered deep in the recesses of his mind, submerged by panic and fear. Swallowing again, he shifted his weight more evenly on his folded legs and supported himself with one arm on Greyback's shoulder. With a final glance up into those fading azure eyes he dipped his head towards his neck. Pinching the flesh together across the first deep laceration with his other hand he swiped his tongue across the crevice. His stomach roiled, but he did not dare allow himself to pause and think on it.

Again, he lapped at that flesh that tasted of sweat and blood with only a slight tang of the man he had tasted in passion that morning. He winced and again he licked the wound until he felt the skin smooth under his tongue. Glancing down with shock, he saw that the first of the four deep gouges had healed under his tongue, it still looked red raw and angry, but it was healed.

_Hurry!_ He snapped, urging himself not to dwell on the spectacular madness of what had just happened. Somewhere at the back of his mind he realised that Ghost had stopped howling, yet he continued to seal the next wound shut, then the next, by the time he came to the last, however his mouth felt dry. He swallowed, cringing at the coppery taste of blood on his tongue and tried to bring moisture back into his mouth. _Just a bit more, _he told himself, bringing his tongue along the final, nastiest gash. He drew back when he felt it close only to see Greyback watching him with an emotion he couldn't quite comprehend.

Awkward and still filled with dread and uncertainty, Harry glanced to the deep wound across Greyback's belly, but the wolf struggled into a half sitting position.

"You've done enough for now, pet, far more than I thought a new wolf would be capable of." A wince crossed his haggard features and his hand flew to his belly but as Harry moved to press his discarded shirt to the wound there, his own wounds made themselves known.

"We need to get back to the den," Greyback growled, his usual husky gruffness almost completely hiding the pain in his voice, but not the concern. "I need to patch you up–"

"Me?" Harry demanded in disbelief. "What about you?" Any answer Greyback had to give however was lost as Marrok and Larentia bolted into sight. They stopped short at the sight of them, the carnage and the smell of blood so thick on the air.

"Alpha?" Larentia gasped as Marrok stood there dumbly, not believing his eyes.

"Shit," Marrok whispered with horror. They both staggered forward.

Harry inhaled, feeling a frisson of discomfort shoot through him at their proximity to his wounded mate, but he gritted his teeth against the sensation. There was no way he could carry Greyback to the den himself. Feeling the alpha in him swell with his mate injured, Harry forced his limbs to steady themselves and got to his feet. "He's wounded. I can't carry him on my own, help me," he ordered them, leaving no room for argument and with a voice he was sure wasn't his own. It was far too commanding, too forceful. Too wolfish.

Without preamble, the two obeyed (although Larentia with an uncertain, reproachful glance his way) and they both seized Greyback under one arm, hauling him to his feet, drawing a sharp groan of pain from him.

"Careful!" Harry barked, smelling and seeing blood ooze worryingly from the wound at Greyback's abdomen. He was alarmed at the concern he felt forming an impassable lump in his throat, but brushed it aside. This was his fault, he couldn't allow Greyback to die because of him, no matter what he was, he just couldn't. The idea was simply unthinkable.

There was chaos when they eventually got back to the valley. It erupted the second everyone clapped eyes on their almighty alpha, suspended bloody and weak from his pack-mates' shoulders with Harry leading them. Harry kept his chin up and his eyes hard, unwilling to allow anyone to take advantage of the werewolf's weakness. It was simply abhorrent to him, almost as unnerving as the thought of any of them getting closer than they had to. His instincts again, he supposed, but pushed that to the back of his mind for now. Right now he had to fix this mess he'd made of the lives of these people.

"Perhaps we should cover him up?" Harry murmured, determinedly not looking at the naked, barely conscious alpha that Larentia and Marrok were supporting. He reached up instinctively for the clasp holding the fur cloak around his shoulders. Larentia glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, snorting derisively as if he were the world's greatest fool.

"We werewolves don't hold the same taboo about nudity as you little humans," she chuckled without humour. The tone made Harry feel small and useless, insignificant in a way that he had _sworn_ he would never allow himself to be again. He grit his teeth, drawing himself up as high as his body allowed.

"I'm a werewolf too now, or have you forgotten? I'm your alpha just as much as Greyback is," he said, glaring pointedly at her, but with a tone that all those gathering around them could not fail to hear. Larentia looked taken aback, even a little insulted but the way she glanced at Echo, who had appeared at Harry's side told him she dared not be the next fool to disregard all sense of decorum and tradition. The moment she opened her mouth to speak, Harry cut her off, not allowing her the courtesy of trying to cover up her mistake.

"Take him to our den and lay him on the bed then leave him, he is mine – my responsibility," he added the last part hastily, not liking the way his instincts had chosen to word that particular phrase. His cheeks flushed slightly but he did not allow his demeanour to fall. He couldn't allow it now, not when he had already done so much damage here.

There was a moment where no one moved or even seemed to breathe. Then at last, the first slight movement of compliance from Marrok sparked Larentia into action despite her shock and they both began hauling Greyback's semi-conscious form towards the den. With an inward sigh of relief Harry turned to Amoux, who he thought might be the most eager to help. He had to play his part carefully here, without Greyback at his best this could end badly for all with people like Ulric watching on calculatingly.

"Amoux, can you bring me a bowl of warm water and some cleaning cloths?" he asked. She nodded and darted off immediately, leaving him feeling quite alone and overwhelmed in the large crowd that had gathered around him. He stared around at the unfamiliar faces nervously, not knowing what any of them were capable of or even thinking. Were they supporters of what his presence here meant, like Amoux and Echo? Or did they side with usurpers like Ulric? How could he consider this a home? It was no safer nor comfortable than the Dursleys when all was said and done. How many of them would defend him if some were to attack? _At least as Voldemort's captive I knew where I stood, _he thought nervously, wondering how on earth he was going to survive this.

* * *

A sharp sting of pain in his jugular was what awoke Greyback first, then another stabbing agony in his gut like the twist of a knife. Then throbbing, aching pain bloomed throughout his every limb, making him feel heavy and battered, bruised as he had never felt before. He grunted, forcing his eyes to open. The bleary world was instantly recognisable, but only because of all the years he had lived here. He was in his own bed and the soft light dictated it was evening or very early morning. He tried to force his body to rise but could not, not only because of the pain but also the comparatively small hands that pressed firmly on his chest.

"Stay still," a surprisingly concerned voice demanded. The hands drifted away, only to return armed with a damp warm cloth which they used to dab away the grime and blood from his throat. He winced. His little pet was a werewolf alright but the healing abilities in his saliva were far from matured. Though the bleeding had stopped, he still felt every ounce of pain as he would have from an open wound, it was a disconcerting sensation.

With his gaze focussing clearly, he looked down to see his mate kneeling at his side, his brow furrowed as he focussed on cleaning his body, caring for his wounds the way his instincts would be demanding of him right now. Fenrir smirked slightly. He knew the concern, the dire need the boy would be feeling to hide him away, to protect him and care for him solely on his own, but he did not say a word.

Keeping quiet for some time, he watched those slender limbs work, watched that face twitch with concern, alarm and determination all at once with every pass of that damp cloth. It was soothing to feel him there, to watch him, comforting in a way that nothing had been since he was a cub. His thoughts began to drift back to the life he had lead before his family and pack had been desecrated and quickly, he sought words to distract him.

"What time is it?" he asked, irritated at how rough with disuse his voice sounded. He cleared his throat irritably and those green eyes lifted to meet his, shining with the light from the fire at the centre of the den.

"It's night time, I'm not sure of the exact time but everyone went to bed a while ago." Harry frowned and returned the cloth to the bowl to gather more water on it and began to dab at his chest this time. "I've already cleaned your wounds once today. Your stomach wound took ages to close compared to your throat." Ah, so the boy had healed him with his mouth there too, that explained the confusing stabbing pain there as well. The boy had not let anyone else come near him either, he could smell that much in the room. He liked that fact far more than he should.

"Perhaps this will teach you what happens when you run away," Fenrir growled. Those eyes flew to him in shock at his words.

"If you'd told me Vol– _He _would have invaded my mind the second I got out of your range, that you physically _couldn't_ let me go I might not have tried so bloody hard!" Harry declared vehemently.

"I did tell you," Fenrir growled, hauling himself up and snarling at the pain that burst through his body at the action. That froze Harry in his rant and allowed Fenrir the chance to speak. "I told you he'd be on you if I didn't catch you first. But I will _always _catch you," he swore. "You're mine and perhaps this little stunt will teach you that if nothing else!"

Harry stared at him.

"Oh, yes," Fenrir murmured, seeing the truth dawning in those eyes. "You feel the need to care for me, protect me and my honour, to provide for me all on your own. That's what I feel for you. We're mates, whether you seal it by biting me or not. Although completing it would stop this confusion you're feeling." He considered the boy's expression for a moment before continuing. "You belong with me, no matter what else is going on in the world and you can't get away from me. I'm _part _of you and I have been since you consented to me under the moon!"

Impatient with Harry's silent astonishment, Fenrir reached forwards and tried to pull Harry to him, but his wounds slowed him just enough to give Harry time to pull back out of his reach. "No," the boy said firmly, "you're wounded and it's my fault. You need to rest and I'll bloody well make _sure _you rest if I'm stuck here – for a while at least."

He sounded as if he had conceded '_for now at least' _and Fenrir could not help but feel a thrill of delight at that despite his injuries. He reached for him again, but still the boy resisted him, pushing at his shoulders as hard as he dared to keep him at arms length. Those green eyes were bright and defiant.

"No," he said, "you're hurt–"

"So make it up to me, pet," Fenrir growled, moving through the pain with nothing but hunger on his mind. He was in pain but he had felt pain before. Right now, he wanted nothing more than for this boy to welcome Fenrir to his body as willingly as he had this morning. Oh, the morning just gone seemed a decade away now.

"Let me fuck you," he urged his mate, tugging him closer, this time succeeding. The boy was kneeling up over one of Fenrir's spread legs, Fenrir's hand on his neck holding him in place. "Let me," Fenrir breathed, his words dusting his mate's torso that was naked save for bandages that had been wrapped haphazardly around him – as if he had done it himself. Fenrir growled softly at the faint smell of blood there.

"Lie back," he murmured and when the boy protested he added, "just let me heal you." With those green eyes fixed on him, he lowered that slender body back into the furs. Masking his own pain with practiced ease, he peeled away the bandages from that tender flesh. The boy winced and Fenrir dipped his head so that his lips touched the sharp gash across Harry's cheek.

"Let someone else take care of you for once in your life," Fenrir whispered. Mouthing the slender wound with his tongue and lips until he felt it close, he stripped the body below his of poorly wrapped bandages at the same time. When he drew back, Harry's cheek was healed and his body naked aside from the trousers clinging to his hips.

With a quick glance up at that face he was coming to know far too well, Fenrir dipped his head, ignoring the throbbing pain in his throat and soothing the vicious looking gashes across that lean muscled abdomen with his tongue. He felt as well as heard the boy's breath hitch. "Be still," he muttered against that flesh, each slow pass of his tongue and lips an attempt to seduce as well as heal. For some reason he knew that sinking himself into his mate's body was a far better cure than any bed-rest or medicine.

Harry's body twitched under his touch, arching subtly up a little now and again when the boy's control waned. Fenrir growled against Harry's skin and he slid up the boy's body. "You did well today, pet," he practically purred, not releasing the boy's gaze for a moment. And the boy _had_ done amazing, had healed Fenrir quite well considering wounds that severe could not be completely healed by anyone other than an alpha as powerful as himself.

"_Well_?" Harry repeated. "It was my fault! I nearly got Ghost and you killed!" His voice was low and wretched despite the pleasure in his eyes.

"So make it better," Fenrir murmured huskily, far more aroused than he was angry at the moment. He didn't know what or how, but something had changed in the forest when Harry had thought he was about to die and he needed to explore that – needed to desperately. Fenrir almost crooned, leaning in so that their lips were practically touching, feeling the boy's sharp inhalation against his mouth. The boy's lips were firm and hard, set with anticipation and half-hearted negation but still so much softer than his own.

Seizing the boy's chin between his large forefinger and thumb, he held the boy still and looked determinedly into his eyes, giving him nowhere to hide. Pain was still there throbbing in his veins. The 'healed' wounds ached fiercely and his limbs were nowhere near as strong as they usually were, but he needed this, needed closeness to his mate who _still _had not finalised their union. His logical mind knew why the boy had still not sealed them, but his instincts were frustrated, distressed and confused. They would not allow him to rest while he still had yet to woo his mate entirely.

_The best rewards are usually those that are hard won,_ Echo had said only yesterday. Was it still yesterday now? He had answered Fenrir's question of _'what do you suggest?' _also, but before offering any helpful suggestions, he'd asked a question of his own. _What wouldn't you do? _

Fenrir swallowed and then whispered with a heady, gruff tone, "Show me what a human kiss is, pet."

Those lips parted slightly with a shocked gasp beneath him and that was all the reaction Fenrir needed. He dived down, smashing his lips hard against the Harry's, feeling that body arch up in need, surprise and relief all at once. His fickle little cub still had human needs beyond cooked food and warm clothes, it seemed. Fenrir could feel him coming alive beneath him, could see his cheeks flush and eyes close tight with desire. The boy's heart was thudding loudly in his chest. This was a human need Fenrir didn't mind satisfying in the least. It wasn't at all as vile and degrading as he had first thought – in fact…

Seizing the boy's face between both hands, he stroked those smooth, inflamed cheeks with his coarse thumbs. He felt embarrassment and bliss in that heat as he tilted his head a little to get a better angle, laying bruising, demanding kisses on those lips, hungry for more of this delightful reaction.

Fenrir growled softly against that mouth when those uncertain hands flew up to tighten in his hair. Oh, his boy liked this very much. In answer to Echo's question, what wouldn't he do to experience this bliss for eternity? There was nothing he could think of that he wouldn't do. This was how his mate was supposed to be, was supposed to make him feel.

Then, suddenly he felt a moist, uncertain probing at his lips, felt the boy tilt his head a little and Fenrir halted, drawing back a fraction in surprise. Masking his surprise with a cocked brow, he studied the flushed face beneath him. The way Harry's breath hitched told him that he had felt that pulse of arousal too. It seemed to startle some of that reputed courage from him, for he found his voice.

"Open your mouth more," Harry whispered sheepishly, his words almost lost to even Fenrir's ears. The alpha stiffened, irritated that the boy seemed to know more about this 'kissing' than him, that he knew more about any intimacy than him. Just how many mouths had his mate's lips touched? How many unworthy witches had tasted his pet's tongue? He growled furiously at the thought.

Seizing the back of the boy's neck, he ignored his cry of uncomfortable surprise and yanked him up hard to his body again, crashing their lips together in determination to burn any memory of another touch from his mate's body. This time he kept his lips open and took advantage of Harry's gasp by darting his tongue forward the way he did when tasting the boy's arse. Teasingly he flicked the tip of his tongue over those lips, taunting the corner of that mouth as it parted in an 'o' of pleasure.

Harry groaned beneath him, his fingers digging into his shoulders in a battle for freedom and for more all at once. Fenrir's tongue learned the shape of his front teeth, flicking tormentingly at the roof of his mouth before finally meeting the other's slick muscle. Oh, it was good, even to him.

"Delicious," he snarled roughly through open mouthed kisses, saliva keeping their mouths joined even as they parted with his words. He groaned and felt the echoes of the boy's own cries in his mouth. There was nothing more erotic. How had humans, as stupid as they were, managed to get something so right? "I want your arse at the same time," he grunted, sliding his hand down to Harry's trousers and tugging at them impatiently.

Harry struggled, his hands between their chests now and pushing against him to try and break free. His pesky conscience had awoken again it seemed. Fenrir seized that mouth again, this time punctuating the feral, ferocious kiss with a nip to that swollen lower lip. The boy cried out and Fenrir chuckled against his mouth, still struggling to pry his trousers off with their awkward angle.

"Surely you realise now that no one can ever make you feel like this. No muggle or witch or wizard can compare." He spanned the diminutive gap between them again with a slower, experimentally soft kiss that made a strange, unmistakeably wolfish whine leave his mate's throat.

"Oh, you like tenderness as well do you, pet?" he smirked derisively, "It's not my nature boy, but I'll give it to you. I'll give you whatever your dainty little body needs, that's what it means to be my mate. There's no way you can keep denying that you belong with me–"

"No," Harry began. Turning his head away to avoid the next kiss Fenrir had been about to lay on his mouth, he shoved his hardest against that chest. "I don't want–"

"Yes, you do," Fenrir snarled, seizing that chin and turning it back to him, sealing those lips with another punishing kiss that made his mate cry out and arch despite himself. His hand dove into those loose trousers again, tugging roughly so that Harry was forced up against him. The sharp sudden motion irritated his, Fenrir's wounds and drew a sharp hiss from his lips.

The reaction was instant. Harry tore his lips away and took the opportunity to leap back out of Fenrir's grasp, completely off the bed. Pulling his trousers back up awkwardly, the boy stared at Fenrir with concern that made a growl of irritation leave him. Harry took an extra few cautious steps backward, staring at him with far too bright eyes and kiss-bruised lips. He looked good like that and the sight only infuriated the alpha more.

"You're hurt," the boy said firmly.

"I've had worse," Fenrir snarled, "now get back on this bed before I drag you back."

.

Harry's chin raised, his jaw set and he took another step backward. "You're wounded because of me," he said, his voice still plagued with flustered arousal. "And since Vol– _He _will snatch me up again the second I'm out of your range, it looks like I'm stuck here for a while." _Until Hermione, Ron and the others get me out of here, _he thought distractedly. "You saved me," he said, his voice steady now. "I don't want to be in anyone's debt, least of all yours, so while I'm stuck here I may as well return that debt and get you well again."

Fenrir raised a brow. "You talk like this is a temporary thing, pet, but it's a lifetime situation."

"I don't accept that," Harry said with a cool voice that was betrayed by his flushed cheeks and the unavoidable bulge in his trousers. "The celebratory feast you arranged for…" he paused, wincing slightly as he forced out the word, "_us_? It's been postponed for now, just thought you should know." With that he turned, heading towards the bathing chamber. "I'll just have a quick bath," he called over his shoulder indifferently, his steps hastening to put more distance between them.

That…that _kiss _had rattled him. He needed to put space between them before his instincts, his hormones, his human needs and their incomplete bond all conspired to drive him completely mad. He would get out of here, _he_ _would_. He just had to do some damage control while he was still trapped here.

Leaning down, Harry tugged down his trousers, pausing at the fact that there was no pain in his movements. That was down to Fenrir. _Greyback_, he corrected himself, gritting his teeth. For fuck's sake! Why was this place, this relationship feeling less and less like a trap with every passing moment? _Ron, Hermione, whatever you're up to, hurry up and find me, before I lose it completely._

That kiss had been good, better than anything he had ever felt before.

_~To Be Continued…_


	9. Heart's Spectrum

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for all the kind words I've received. I'm so nervous about getting this right so I'm glad so many of you are enjoying it :) Even the smallest of words mean a lot to me. Please continue to enjoy!

* * *

.: Chapter Nine :.

Heart's Spectrum

It occurred to Harry that perhaps he was more extraordinary among the pack than he had first thought. He had known that carrying the lycanthrope recessive gene made him special to them, a gifted creature akin to royalty and that they all felt the need to protect him. But besides that, as the alpha's mate and their joint leader he was clearly expected to do…_nothing_.

Frowning at his thoughts, he dragged the cloth in his hands roughly up and down the metal washer, grinding the dirt and sweat from it before dunking it back into the pool he was kneeling beside. The need to avoid Fenrir (_Greyback, _his mind corrected) and boredom had swiftly driven him from the den every morning only a few hours after the alpha had awoken. This had become the routine over the last few weeks; he would tend the wolf's wounds and then skitter away as quickly as possible – usually into the welcoming sunlight.

It was glorious being outside in the sun all day, even now in spring, with the weather not quite in motion towards summer yet the light and warmth were enough to make his skin sing softly with each passing moment. He was more aware of the weather now. He could practically _hear _the leaves on the trees whispering conspiratorially about summer. Even the cool water splashing over his hands felt glorious as he washed the clothes he had offered to help Amoux with, the droplets dancing joyfully over the back of his fingers.

"You really don't have to do that," Amoux said softly when Harry turned and caught her staring at him as she worked through her own pile. He had seen her with the load that was shared between the subs a few weeks ago and demanded he be given an equal load to everyone else when she had let him help. It had been nearly two weeks now and still they balked at the sight of him doing 'chores'. Was the alpha numero supposed to sit on their arse and survey? Even Fenrir – _Greyback _was rarely unoccupied, often hunting or dealing with diplomacy among the pack and anyone (or anything) that got too close to their territory. Werewolves were far too territorial Harry had come to realise.

"It's fine, I'm almost done," Harry declared, giving her a warm smile as he wrung out the garment in his hands, examining it carefully before deeming it clean and laying it out on one of the thick slabs of sheer, clean slate encircling the wash pool ready to dry. It was honest work that required no thinking. He wanted to do something. Anything. Any work was honest work. He was not a fat cat to be fed and left to lounge all day. The thought made his skin prickle in irritation.

"Shall I help you with yours?" he asked. He was used to chores thanks to his time at the Dursleys, but unlike back then, these were tasks he was happy to do for those much more grateful than the occupants of Privet Drive. He might even dare to say they liked him.

"No, of course not," Amoux said, almost aghast, "honestly, you do too much. It is not expected of you to partake in menial tasks."

Harry frowned. "With all due respect I think sitting on my backside all day would be more menial and far less useful than mucking in with everyone else." He looked around at the eight subs (including Amoux) that were gathered by the pool. Some had their children playing close by their side. Vilkas (Amoux's youngster) was playing with two grass dolls between himself and Amoux, making the couple dance happily and giving them childish voices as he played. Ghost was stretched out on the grass next to Harry, watching the proceedings lazily. He had taken his job in protecting Harry very seriously since the incident with the griffins. Thankfully his tail had healed without so much as a scratch.

"The alpha will be back from the hunt soon, you should make yourself available to him," she said simply. Despite the casualness of her tone, Harry still flushed. He knew this was natural to them, but he still couldn't picture this as a life he could every call normal or natural. Although a voice somewhere deep inside him was whispering louder and louder with each day, that this could easily be a life he could be happy with.

"Your bond is still incomplete, it makes the separation agitate you more easily," Amoux smiled knowingly at him. "Just looking at you anyone can tell you're unsettled."

Harry blinked. "To you all it probably seems mental that I won't complete the bond," he said.

"It's a different world here, far and away from the pain and destruction we knew in the wizarding world, but where _you_ came from within it, you knew good things as well," Amoux explained. "We didn't know anything but suffering, that's why it is easier for us to be just what we are and forget the troubles of everyone else outside of the pack." She gestured to the crown of the mountain that encircled them, the sun bathing her beautiful but worn features. She looked like someone who had endured more than even him in her lifetime.

"But we can give you back whatever you miss and more, Harry," she said softly, "just give us a chance – give _him_, a chance. You will be surprised how well you fit in here."

Harry swallowed. "Even if Vol– I mean _Tergarletum _or whatever you call him weren't around, I have friends in the wizarding world–"

"You can have a family with us, be cared for, have _children,_" she glanced to Vilkas dotingly and the boy glanced up, noticing their gaze on him. He gave Harry a dazzling smile before ambling over to him, offering him one of the grass dolls before planting himself in his lap. Harry froze at the suddenness of it but the boy didn't seem to notice his awkwardness.

He remembered his first encounter with the boy and how when lost to his instincts, he'd had the urge to wrap the child in his arms. He'd felt comforted by his presence. He still felt comforted by him, a sensation that was heightened by the oncoming full moon. His second with Greyback. He swallowed at the thought. It was barely a week to go and he was going to be shut in here with a pack of wolves. Perhaps he would be able to lock the den with magic or something to keep them out.

"Vilkas is very taken with you," Amoux said with her usual smile, changing the subject when she realised how silent he had gone. Harry looked down. The tot in his lap was making the doll in his own small hand talk nonsense to the doll he had forced into Harry's grasp. "All the children are quite in awe of you, it's because of what you are."

Harry didn't know what to say to that really, but he was spared having to find words when both Amoux and one of the other subs across from Harry (a male called Accalia) both got to their feet. "Perhaps you'd like to help us with bath time?" Accalia said. He was tall and slender – far taller than Harry, rugged with cropped, tousled dark blond hair and rich brown eyes that regarded Harry with the same kind of understanding and affection that Amoux's did.

Accalia was the main reason that Harry had not completely flipped out at being 'left' behind whenever Greyback went out to hunt. It helped of course that he, Harry liked helping the others out in their load and that they genuinely seemed to like him (despite how awkward their conversation often was). That, and being 'left' also gave him ample excuse to escape Greyback's overwhelming presence. He had to take whatever chance he could get to reduce the amount of time they spent together.

Aside from all that Accalia was so utterly…_masculine_. There was not a shred of femininity about him, which helped Harry to accept that just because they were subs, didn't mean they were analogous to women in any way. He was a comforting sight.

"The twins are a struggle when it comes to getting them to meet water," Accalia smirked, seizing one of the children under his arm while the other identical girl squealed and ran for cover behind the woman beside her. Harry smirked and stood slowly, unable to extricate himself from Vilkas, who clung to his torso until he surrendered and brought an arm around the boy's backside to support him.

"They might behave themselves if their new friend comes to help," Amoux laughed, seizing his poorly hidden tot round the middle and hauling her up into the air. "We'll use my den, come."

Harry found himself wondering if he'd ever had 'bath time' like this. The three of them had the three infants in the hot spring bath (like the one in Greyback's den) and were washing them brusquely while the twin five-year-old girls and little Vilkas splashed each other gleefully. The squeaks of delight made Harry smile despite any lingering awkwardness. He struggled to keep hold of one of the twins as he washed her head of dark hair.

"You're a natural," Accalia laughed just as the other twin swatted at him, trying to escape his grasp.

"Want to play!" the girl squealed, bored of this part of bath time and eager to be playing with the other two. Vilkas was the best behaved, happy to sit close to Amoux and relish the attention quietly. What had he himself been like when he was a child, Harry wondered? Was he rebellious and rueful like the twins or more quiet and content like Vilkas? And if he had a child, what would they be like?

The thoughtfulness must have shown on his face because Accalia's voice interrupted his reverie. "You're not worried about the festivities are you? It's only natural for us to celebrate yours and the alpha's joining, there won't be a ritual slaughter or public display of carnal passion," he mused. "You should enjoy it."

Ah. Yes, he'd forgotten about the rearranged festivities. He'd hoped that they all would have forgotten too but it seemed not. They really were fixated on their traditions here.

Harry bit the inside of his mouth uncertainly, beginning to rinse the suds off twin number two's head. It was still bizarre, having the life of a small wriggling child in his hands. It made him uneasy, despite his purring instincts. "Even though I won't complete the bond?" he said without really meaning to speak aloud.

Either Accalia didn't hear him, or decided he couldn't find an answer, for he said, "I was considering our conversation from the other day, regarding your desire to harness your werewolf magic faster?"

Harry blinked in surprise. He'd believed that subject had been closed or was taboo in someway, that they feared him gaining too much power and using it to escape. He licked his dry lips, pausing in his task for a moment. "You'll help me?" he asked. Apparently Accalia had been the youngest and quickest to come into his magic after he had been turned, that was why Harry had gone to him in the first place.

Accalia seemed both amused and pleased with his eagerness, not in the least bit worried. "I give lessons of a sort to the youngsters to help them find their magic deep within themselves. I would be happy for you to sit in on our sessions."

Harry beamed. He couldn't believe it. A pull similar to that of homesickness swelled in his stomach – only he was longing for his magic rather than home. Magic, he would have his magic back! "When can we start?" he asked eagerly, loading a wash cloth up with warm water to dab the suds away from the twin's skin.

Then, as he waited for the man to answer a thought occurred to him and he glanced to Accalia warily. "Err, maybe it'd be best if you didn't tell Greyback about it," he said carefully.

Amoux smiled softly. "Afraid he'll disapprove and try to stop it?" she asked. "I don't think he will be displeased. It's part of being a wolf, of course he will be happy that you're eager to learn more."

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. "Not if he thinks I'll use my magic to escape he won't," he muttered, mostly to himself.

"And would you?" Accalia asked, his tone still light but hard to read.

Unable to lie to these people who seemed to genuinely care about him, he gave a small sigh. "Would it stop you from teaching me?"

"No," Accalia replied simply. His face was as gentle as ever, but that was all he had to say on the matter for now apparently. At least it seemed there was a way forward in all this apart from sitting tight and waiting for Ron and Hermione to rescue him. He might be able to redeem and repair his fractured pride yet. If only he could claw back some power, some control to level the uneven scales of strength.

"How did the twins come to you?" he asked quickly, wanting to change the subject from his potential betrayal of their kindness. Accalia smiled fondly, bitterness just touching the corners of his dark eyes.

"There was a report of abuse in one of the foster homes in the city, continual abuse that the muggle authorities couldn't prove and so Lupa, Echo and Hemming rescued the five children there and brought them home. I took in the twins who were still babies, and the three adolescents were old enough to choose their own families here." Accalia considered Harry thoughtfully before adding, "it's a delicate matter. It can be considered both right and wrong. I have heard that outsiders even call us cruel for 'damning' the children to our 'cursed' lives–"

"I know lots of people who would think that," Harry interrupted him, grateful to the task at hand (washing the fierce little girl before she wriggled away) to give him an excuse not to have to meet Accalia's eyes. "I used to think that, but having lived the childhood I did…" He paused for a moment, forcing his unwilling memory back to that time where he would fantasise that someone would come and rescue him from the misery of Privet Drive. "I think if someone had given me the choice, to be raised as I was, unwanted and neglected or cared for as a werewolf, I would have chosen to be a werewolf any day."

"That's encouraging to hear," came a voice from behind them. It made Harry whirl around and the twin still in his grasp squeaked delightfully as Harry lifted her clean out of the water, her still moving legs splashing at the surface like a propeller. Greyback had just walked into the wash area of the den, watching them (Harry in particular) with an odd look in his eyes.

"You look good with a cub in your arms," he mused, his voice gruff but smooth and his appearance dishevelled from the hunting trip he had just returned from. Harry flushed darkly and set the twin down, wrapping her up in a towel, and drying her carefully, avoiding Greyback's eyes. He could tell the other two were trying to hide their good-natured amusement.

"Don't get any ideas," Harry snorted, making sure the little girl was dry before wrapping her up tightly in the over-large towel. "I have no intention of being a father. Especially not of your children."

Greyback snorted. "Just as well that you'll be their mother then." Harry glared at that, but before he could even find words for a retort, Greyback had glanced to where Ghost was sitting dutifully at Harry's side and was speaking again. "You can bring Ghost along on our walk if you want."

Harry frowned in confusion. "Walk?"

"It's customary for the mated pair to walk together while the final touches are added to the festivities," Amoux said, plucking Vilkas from the bath and drying him gently. Harry's frown intensified. Greyback just expected him to know that? He scratched the back of his neck in irritation but couldn't miss how excited Ghost looked at the prospect of enjoying the forest again under less dangerous circumstances this time.

Harry tried to ignore the eagerness swelling in his stomach as he got to his feet and moved towards Greyback, Ghost following quickly in his wake. He'd been away from the werewolf since daybreak and thanks to his insistence they hadn't _touched _since before Greyback was injured either. Harry felt quite proud of his resistance, his determination to keep himself as distant with Greyback as possible.

Except his resolve was dwindling under the pressure of how much he missed whatever it was he felt when the bastard touched him. He felt wanted, treasured, _pleasured_ and so much more that he would never voice aloud once he got out of here.

The sun was still bright in the sky, it was a cool afternoon but beautiful as the daylight swept across the forest, making every blade of grass shimmer while they danced in the embrace of the breeze. Harry couldn't believe Greyback was letting him outside the mountain paradise and into the forest again after his so recent escape attempt. But then Greyback would be able to stop him from escaping easily if he tried, he supposed, gritting his teeth in annoyance.

He hated feeling powerless, which is what he felt with Greyback near him. Even his own emotions and body weren't under his control where the bastard was concerned. He didn't like it and with his recent celibacy, the confusing incompleteness of their bond and the oncoming full moon, it was all feeling more intense than usual. That was why he needed to find his magic again – now more than ever.

Harry walked beside Greyback in silence, trying to prevent the infuriating hurricane of emotions from betraying his internal struggle to Greyback. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction. He tried to concentrate on the puppyish glee with which Ghost darted from tree to tree, spinning around in his bliss, often bolting out of sight only to fly back to their side again, panting and wagging his tail.

"He's still a cub at heart, he's got some growing to do," Greyback muttered when Ghost bolted back into the trees again. The forest was calmer now at this time of year, mating season was over for most creatures and young were often taken to the meadow beyond the forest to graze. It was safer than the last time Harry had ventured out here, trying to escape.

"You've been spending a lot of time with Amoux, Accalia and the other subs," Greyback noted, "you've been happier."

Harry's skin prickled. "_Happy?_ that's one word for it. I call it making the best of a bad situation. Like I said, when I leave here I don't want to owe anyone anything." At this, Greyback snarled and seized him by the arm, whirling him around to face him. He towered over Harry as always, but at times like this the alpha didn't scare him. Harry tilted his head up, facing him defiantly as always.

"You get all defensive when I'm right, pet," Greyback growled. "You could easily enjoy your life here, that's why you try so hard to not get yourself too attached, but it's all futile. You can't leave me, even with an incomplete bond you'd drive yourself mad–"

"I'd rather be committed to St. Mungo's than be stuck here as your little _pet_," Harry retorted hotly, but the werewolf ignored his words, his free hand catching the back of Harry's neck and hauling him in close so that he could inhale his scent at the base of his throat, where his mark would forever brand the sun-kissed skin.

"Your body would pine for me, worse than it has these last few weeks even," Greyback continued, murmuring into his throat, his stubble (which remained neatly trimmed now at all times) tickled Harry's skin as he spoke. "And it would only get worse with time. Do you forget the last full moon so easily? You'd be fucking the nearest solid object in your desperation to be close to me – you'd tear your pretty little body apart in want of something only I can give you…"

Harry squirmed and shoved hard at his chest, ignoring the way his heart was pounding and his breath was coming out in sharp, uneven pants.

"Don't pull away from me when you _know _that you've missed me," Greyback breathed in his ear, only to receive a swat in the chest that's sharpness so surprised him that he pulled back. He frowned. "You're getting stronger," he noted. "You're coming into your heritage faster than I'd have thought."

"Always a mould-breaker, me," Harry snorted, taking a few steps back to put space between them. "It's about time, I'm tired of being the puny one. I wish Dumbledore had taught me wandless magic…"

"You aren't weak," Greyback said rigidly, looking quite insulted at the idea. "I wouldn't have chosen you if you were. And by the time you've fully adjusted, you won't need anyone to show you how to handle your magic – it'll come to you naturally when you need it."

Harry raised a brow. "Considering you hate wizards so much, you sound a lot like Dumbledore sometimes."

Greyback grimaced. "Oh, joy," he sneered. "And for the record, they loathe me just as much as I do them."

"They think you're a child-snatcher, that's why," Harry said.

"Despite my reasons, I _am _a child-snatcher and I do bite them young and raise them away from their parents. That part was built on words from my actual mouth rather than rumour built by wizards who despise wolves."

Harry frowned. He had the urge to justify the alpha to everyone in the wizarding world – was that because of the bond they shared making him feel protective of him? Or was it just the time they had shared here with the pack opening his eyes? He still wasn't sure if it was right or wrong. Perhaps to say it was a bit of both was the only justification? If there was one thing he'd learnt over the last few years, it was that the world was painted in grey rather than black and white.

"Don't waste your time, pet," Greyback said, as if reading his mind. "I don't care what they think. Everything I give a shit about is back in that mountain." He stepped forward, but after surveying him for a moment, made no move to touch him. "And here, I s'pose," he said gruffly with a smirk on his face that told Harry instantly that he was teasing him. He said nothing and they continued to walk through the trees, following in Ghost's wake.

It was an oddly companionable silence that they fell into then and Harry felt himself filled with unnerving calmness. This is what he had been missing all day – everything made sense again and the uneasy anxiety that had swelled within him was diminished. Even if his temper and frustration had soared sky-high. Was it simply the incomplete bond? Or did the bastard just really know how to push his buttons?

Suddenly, Ghost's excited howl ripped through the air. The trees parted to reveal a small glade where a vast rockery rose up out of the ground and glistening water cascaded over the crest into the large pool in the rocky basin below. The day's setting sun danced across the surface until every rivulet gleamed like diamonds in the now orange light.

Harry paused at the sight of it, every ripple dancing coquettishly across the water as if it were beckoning him toward the pool. Ghost had flown across the rockery that formed the wall of the pool and was now darting in and out of the water descending from the rock that jutted out from above, his tail wagging with frantic excitement. Harry smiled at the sight but gasped in surprise as two large arms tugged him back into the burning heat of Greyback's body.

"There's an expression not seen often on the _Chosen One's_ face," the alpha whispered huskily into his ear, his hot breath and stubble tickling the soft shape of the appendage and making Harry squirm. He felt like saying _'I wonder why' _but bit back the words and the groan that threatened to leave him simultaneously, his teeth sinking into his lower lip.

One arm tightened around his middle, holding him tight against that hard body while a coarse thumb tugged at his captured lip until he released it. The digit forced his mouth to open enough for the tip of it to skitter inwards and tease his tongue.

"If you accepted what you are and what you want we'd see it more often," that raspy voice whispered. The tone slithered through Harry's bones, caressing him with all the intimacy and menace of a viper's embrace. "Come on pet, forget everything – run for me…" The large hot hand around Harry's middle slid down, down, hovering over his groin briefly, before it snuck up under his shirt to brush tauntingly over a nipple. The thumb in his mouth pressed down on his tongue and Harry grunted, squirming again, only this time, Greyback released him with such suddenness that he nearly fell forward clumsily. He whirled around in shock, only to find the familiar silver wolf standing over him, watching him with eyes ringed with supernatural gold.

The beast's great tail swayed slightly and Harry instinctively knew what it meant. He wanted a chase. Harry snorted, well if that was his game…

Without really thinking about what he was doing, he held the wolf's gaze and he toed off the shoes he had been given – he would be faster without them, he just knew that somehow. Maintaining the eye contact for a moment longer, he felt a thrill rush through him and flew off to the side, shooting into the trees with a swell of exhilaration. He felt as well as heard Greyback tearing after him.

With his instincts roaring with bliss, he felt deep down for his growing skills and flew forwards with such speed that he felt the cool afternoon air press against his face. Like before, it was a thrilling moment, like taking to the skies on his broom. He ran faster and just when he felt the heat radiating from Greyback's body right behind him, he zigzagged through the trees to the side, bolting in a complete new direction. Greyback was faster than him and stronger but Harry was smaller and more nimble.

Harry made a wide circle as he flew through the trees, weaving with unnatural ease through their great bodies. He felt distanced from anything but the grass beneath his feet, the air on his face and the sensation of Greyback close behind him. He could hear the beast panting and glanced behind him to see that tail and those eyes betraying his excitement as well. Why did this little game of chase exhilarate him so? And why did he suspect that the fact that he was starved of contact with the brute was only intensifying the excitement?

He wanted him and feared the sensations his touch incited equally. Feared how easily he forgot the rest of the world. Was that because he'd never been touched like that before? Because he was trapped here alone? Or because he was starting to understand the sad, bitter anger resonating in the silver wolf?

They had come full circle and Harry was panting heavily, grinning as he saw the waterfall descending into the pool – he'd beaten the git back! Just as he'd thought that, however, a sharp howl of delight ripped through the air and the wolf slammed into him, sending them both hurtling with a roaring splash into the water.

Kicking out with his legs, Harry swam back towards the surface of the pool, his heart still hammering in his chest when two arms closed around him and hauled him back up to the surface. Harry took in a deep lungful of air and whirled around in the water to find a very naked, very human Greyback holding him tight with his usual wolfish smirk.

Harry could feel the alpha's heart beating hard and fast against his own where their chests met and couldn't tear his eyes away as he drank in great gasps of air, shivering where he floated fully clothed in the water. Before he could satisfy his lungs with precious oxygen, however, his mouth was sealed with a damp, breathless kiss. Harry's entire body bowed forward with pleasure. The stubble around Greyback's face tickled his own slightly stubbly jaw and he groaned breathlessly into that mouth, seizing two fistfuls of silver hair as Greyback pulled him tight to his body.

Harry bit at Greyback's lower lip, hearing him grunt with bliss before pushing his own tongue into Harry's mouth to ravage him with such hunger as Harry had never known before. No one had ever wanted him this badly, nor made him feel so alive or pushed the threat and ever-suffocating knowledge of death far from his mind.

Suddenly, one hand knotted into his hair, tugging his head back and breaking the connection with his lips so that Greyback's stubbly kisses could rest on the dip between his collarbones. To Harry's surprise, he felt the beast's breaths dust his cold skin for a few, long exhalations, as if Greyback were drinking in the smell and taste of him. He was growling under his breath again, that same soothing, rumbling sound that made Harry roll his head back further and give a part sigh, part whimper. It was so good.

After a few moments like this, he shivered as the cool, late afternoon air swept over his damp skin and the growling stopped. He felt Greyback's head tip up before he opened his eyes to look at him. "So strong yet so fragile," Greyback smirked, holding his bright gaze for a fleeting moment before hauling them both out of the water. He was so quick that Harry only had time to blink. He saw the waterfall getting closer and closer, felt it's cool water briefly wash over him and then they were…_behind it?_

Harry squirmed out of Greyback's grasp as they entered the cave that had been invisible from beyond the waterfall. He was coming back down from the high he had been on in the pool thanks to the cold lancing his limbs and shivered as he landed on his arse on the ground, wincing. "You really need to learn to let someone take care of you, pet," Greyback said with a derisive smirk, leaning down a foot or so from where Harry had landed and making what looked like a circle out of the rubble and crumbled rock.

Harry frowned as he watched the precise movements of his large hands. "What are you doing?" he asked, confused just as a soft orange light burned into life beneath Greyback's fingers, trapped in the circle of stones he had made. The fire swelled higher and higher, until Harry could feel the warmth radiating from it begin to chase the chill from his body.

Greyback sat back from the fire and finally met his gaze. "What's the matter, pet, have you never seen magic before?"

"You didn't use an incantation," Harry noted, his voice almost protesting what he had seen. "The fire just sprang to life in your hands!"

Greyback's smirk broadened. "Werewolf magic is tied to the world around us," he explained gruffly. "Deep in civilisation we can still use magic but we have to channel it through wands made by wizards to release our full strength. Out here in the wilderness though…"

Harry watched as Greyback moved his hand through the air, summoning a startling white vapour that followed the path of his hand.

"Out here our magic is channelled through the air, ground and water. We don't need wands out here and soon, neither will you."

Harry blinked. "Show me," he demanded, even as he shivered in his damp clothing. Greyback held his gaze thoughtfully. After a moment, he circled the fire that was now blazing brightly, illuminating the rounded walls of the small cave. Greyback came to kneel in front of where Harry sat and proffered his palms up. With obstinate determination Harry set one of his hands in Greyback's and shivered again as the wolf turned it over in his grasp.

The firelight bathed their faces and Harry inhaled sharply as Greyback dragged a coarse thumb across his palm, tickling it slightly. The wolf's skin was hot unlike his own chilled flesh, still prickling with the cold from the water and the world outside. Harry's breath was coming out in furls of mist and he frowned impatiently, meeting Greyback's eyes with annoyance when nothing happened. Before he could open his mouth to express his displeasure, however, Greyback had beaten him to it.

"With werewolf magic it works based on what you need and feel rather than what you want," Fenrir explained, his gruff voice negating the intimacy of his words. Harry could feel the way his breath danced across his palm and shuddered again, not solely from the cold this time. "I know what you're feeling, boy, so show me," Greyback all-but purred.

"What're you–?" Harry's words were cut short when Greyback's grip tightened on his fingers, arching his palm slightly up, both of their breaths mingling on his open hand.

"It's one of the first spells any werewolf learns," Greyback explained in a low voice. His eyes were dark, the flickering orange light of the fire betraying feelings in them that made Harry's swell and bubble to the surface like a boiling batch of _Amortentia_.

Suddenly, the mist of Greyback's hot breath rolling off his lips and over Harry's hand shone a mystic, glistening blue as if imbued with stardust. It swept across Harry's palm as if it had its own life, sending little jolts of electricity through his skin. At once the soft blue glowed a vibrant red and then deepest violet, midnight blue, then red again, a storm of intense colours that kissed each of his fingertips before hovering over his lips.

Harry gasped, his palm twitching where it remained trapped in Greyback's grasp. "Let go," Greyback breathed roughly and with that a softer light stuttered to life over his hand. Harry's eyes widened, shining with the now erratically changing light in his hand, flashing faster and faster from glistening red to gold, then a confusing myriad of rainbow-like colours.

The light washed over his hand then up around them, sweeping the air up into a spectrum of ever-changing light. It swirled tighter and tighter around them both before bursting into his chest with a final explosion of multi-hued light. Harry gasped for air again, falling back onto his hands, his heart hammering in his chest, his skin buzzing all over as if alive.

"What the hell was that?" Harry asked breathlessly, both awed and anxious at the same time.

"Wandless magic – _werewolf _magic," Greyback said with an undeniable edge of superiority, gesturing to Harry's chest. "It's called the _Heart's Spectrum_."

At this Harry flushed, righting himself where he sat, using the excuse of edging closer to the fire to avoid Fenrir's eyes. He knew what that meant without it having to be explained – he wasn't stupid. The lights had been a confusing, haphazard myriad of ever-changing colour and that betrayed the bewildered, lost state of his soul. He'd always known he was muddled in the head, he just didn't know it was this much.

"You need to trust me to watch over you, pet. You need to find a moment of relaxation before all of that chaos inside you tears you apart," Greyback insisted as Harry tried to warm himself by the fire. He felt even colder all of a sudden.

"Trust isn't something I can give away, you need to earn it," Harry said simply, not daring to meet those knowing azure eyes. His heart's spectrum was a chaotic explosion of madness, Greyback's had been focused and determined, radiating the clear sensation of lust, frustration and determination that Harry could not fail to comprehend. Greyback knew who he was, what he wanted and didn't fear reaching out to take it – Harry envied that, whatever else was going on between them.

"So tell me what I need to bloody to do to earn it?" the wolf snarled.

Suddenly he felt the heat of Greyback's body beside him and instinctively glanced up to meet that unreadable face. The last few weeks he had spent trying to avoid him at all costs had proved to him only one thing, that he only felt any semblance of peace with their limbs knotted together in a sensual courtship that chased his concerns away. He would never stop trying to escape, he would never accept this as his life here but he could not deny that he wanted him.

_Stop being so bloody melodramatic, _he cursed himself, unwilling to betray his mawkishness to anyone, particularly Greyback who had an infuriatingly powerful insight into his troubles thanks to the bite mark at his throat. He didn't need to mark Greyback back to know what he was thinking – most of the time anyway.

"What's happening at the full moon?" he asked after a prolonged silence, changing the subject to one that had been plaguing his mind for the last few days, ever since he had begun to feel the pull of the moon in his bones again. It was coming and he didn't fancy a repeat of last month or a close encounter with the pack all riled up on hormones and instincts. He had things to do before he could allow himself to be ripped to shreds!

"What do you want?" Fenrir asked in a low, gruff tone. Harry clenched his teeth and glanced to the fire, biting back the shudders that shook him. Among the creatures in their pack he was the weak one, out of him and Greyback he was the one that needed protecting – he didn't like that. He didn't like not being able to look after himself.

"Does it matter what I want?" he asked bitterly.

"Don't give me that shit," Fenrir growled in answer through clenched teeth. Then after a heartbeat, he added, "each full moon that door that guards entry to our valley also locks us in. It stops us from escaping and coming across humans or strangers that might be in our territory and ripping them to shreds in our mindless states. When we turn under the moon's pull we act on instinct and can't be responsible for anything beyond that, so the gate keeps us there, among the pack where we can do no harm."

Harry blinked at the fire. He was still cold. "That other wolf tried to kill me and _worse_ last time," he said at last.

"You're afraid," Fenrir noted.

Harry gritted his teeth tighter, until they groaned under the pressure of his bite. "I'm not stupid," he said, by way of explanation. "Is the plan for me to stay locked in the valley with you? Because I don't fancy being raped or shredded by you all every month, thanks."

"Wolves are possessive," Fenrir explained. "I won't let anyone touch you, to rape, kill or otherwise."

"But you can't protect me from _you_, you said so yourself. I have to play the perfect sub or you could hurt me," Harry retorted.

"If you marked me and made our bond complete you'd make us more equal under the moon," Greyback said bluntly. "We're both torn by the incomplete bond, whether you believe it or not and my wolf will be even more likely to jump you out of the need to assert itself the longer you leave things this way."

"You say you and the wolf are the same yet you talk about it like it's separate," Harry snapped.

Greyback gave him a wolfish grin. "Ah, well it has a mind of its own – I know a part of you that has a mind of its own too," he murmured suggestively, causing a flush to rise in Harry's cheeks. There was a moment or two and then Greyback leant in so that his chest brushed against Harry's side. Harry swallowed, turning his head and keeping his eyes defiantly _up_.

"Why are you so afraid of sealing our bond? Even without your mark on me it's still irreversible," Greyback breathed.

"Because I didn't choose you," Harry replied. "I've had enough of people manipulating my life by keeping things from me or making decisions for me. Even if it makes no rational sense, I won't give in and just go along with it anymore. Whether I live or die, everything from here on out has to be of my choosing."

Greyback tilted his head to the side, closing the gap between them so that their mouths were almost touching. "So choose now," Greyback growled, one hand sliding up to grasp the hair at the back of Harry's neck firmly but gently. "Choose me and I'll make sure no one fucks with you again."

"Except you," Harry protested defiantly.

"Only when you want me to," Greyback smirked. "Once _He _is finished you can have more freedom to do as you want."

"And how will he ever get finished if you don't let me finish him?" Harry demanded, even as he was falling inevitably into the heat of Greyback's body. "It seems like you're expecting Ron and Hermione and your two minions to finish him off while I play the dutiful bitch to you in return."

Snarling in frustration, Greyback pulled back and dragged his fingers through his wet hair. "No matter what I do you'll find an excuse to not make a decision, a decision that like it or not, you already made last month under the moon. That was _your_ deepest wish and your shitty human morals are just clouding that – you wanted me! You pulled me in and now you're fucking me about, putting me through this…" He scratched in frustration at the back of his neck, growling in anger. "It's like a constant buzzing in my head. You and your fickle human feelings – this incomplete bond is driving me insane!"

Harry flew to his feet, hands curled into fists. "Well like you saw with the heart's spectrum, _I'm_ fucked up and I can't change that. If it's driving you even more mental than usual then just bloody let me go like I asked!" He snarled. "I'm not asking you to put up with me, you're keeping me prisoner here–"

"To stop you from being killed or worse!"

"Oh, don't pretend it's for me," Harry snapped. "Don't for a second pretend a month is enough to make you give a shit about a _fickle human_."

"A stupid one at that, if that's what you think," Greyback retorted heatedly, fury radiating from him in thick, heady waves. "You think you're innocent in this, pet but you're not. I gave you a choice last moon and you made it–"

"Whilst inebriated and out of my mind with the need for sex!" Harry cut across him. "Drugged on hormones of a disease you forced on me!"

At that Greyback roared with fury, lunging forward and seizing him by the front of his damp shirt. "That _disease _as you put it runs through the blood of every sub and child you've been getting friendly with over the last month – through your pet Lupin, through _you_ and it will flow in the veins of our cubs."

Harry winced. He hadn't meant it like that – not really, he was just angry. "It doesn't make me care about them any less, but it doesn't make me relish the lot I'm stuck with. And I've told you once before that I'll kill myself before anything of yours grows inside me. You won't dictate my life anymore than you already have."

Greyback sneered. "The only time you have any peace in life is when I take control of it for you, when I force you to let go. Don't even pretend that's not true."

"I never denied it, but the ones you make in bed are hardly life-changing decisions. You won't emasculate me anymore than you have. You won't rule over me like you do over your pack back there and you _won't_ force this shitty situation we have on an innocent child that I don't want. Which, incidentally if it did exist, would be part 'shitty human' and I'm not sure you can handle that after the outburst I just heard." He shoved out of Greyback's grasp, finding it easier than he thought he should have. He was definitely getting stronger.

"I've _lived_ a childhood of resentment and not being wanted. I won't help create a child to suffer the same as me, especially with a prick like you."

Greyback snarled. "You've got some issues boy, but it doesn't change the fact that you want me, you chose me and now you're filled with bitterness because you're getting cold feet." He seized Harry's wrists tightly and glared down at him with his teeth bared. "A boy that whinges about his lot in life and then flees at the first sight of any improvement to it has no business complaining in the first place. I think you like to suffer, my very own martyr," he hissed venomously.

"Just because you can't understand why I wouldn't want to shack up with my gaoler," Harry retorted hotly. "It's hardly a choice if I never had any other options."

"You've never felt better than when I'm ploughing your backside and you know it," Greyback spat.

Harry flushed darkly at those words and threw his fist up with all his strength. His knuckles collided _hard _with Greyback's jaw and he released him with a roar. "That doesn't mean I want to spend the rest of my bloody life as your bitch," Harry declared breathlessly. "Whatever you say I need or want, even if I _do_ seal our bond, even if I can be happy here for the rest of my life, I will never want you or anything that you can give me more than my freedom. And the second freedom is in my grasp, I'll take it without another look back."

Fenrir visibly gritted his teeth. "If I give you freedom with _Him _still watching you–"

"So help me to kill _Him. _You say you'll do anything for me but then you fail to deliver," Harry cut across him. "Fact is, you'll do anything as long as it's what you want anyway. You want me to give up everything to be yours without giving anything of yourself – _that's _why I can't stay here, that's why I can never choose you. You're far too selfish!"

"And you're too self_less_! You'd rather I were like you and wore myself into the dirt under the weight of everyone's problems?" Fenrir replied. "I do what's best for the pack, for my mate and myself, forgive me if my concerns don't stretch as far as the wizarding world that's done nothing but rip everything I've ever cared about to shreds!"

Silence fell then and Harry stared breathlessly up at the alpha, the firelight flickering across his livid features. He had forgotten what Echo had told him about his past until then. It softened Harry's tense features somewhat, but it did not completely erase the anger or resentment inside him. It _did _help him to curb his temper however. He missed his friends; Hermione would know what to do about this inescapable situation and Ron, he would offer a few choice swear words at least to let Harry know he wasn't alone in his troubles.

With a sigh, Harry lowered himself to his backside on the ground and wrapped his arms around his damp knees, trying to hold the warmth inside as he allowed the heat of the fire to slowly dry him. Far too slowly. Now he was sitting again without the heat of rage to fuel a fire in his veins, he was shuddering and cold again. The sky was so clear outside, giving the cool spring breeze free reign across the countryside – and being wet didn't help either.

Suddenly, movement behind him made him stiffen in surprise and he jumped slightly, his head whipping around to see a large silver wolf getting comfortable on the ground against his back. Those unfathomable azure eyes stared into him as the wolf's large body stretched around him, enveloping and warming him with the heat of his body and fur.

Harry stared into his eyes for a moment, contemplating struggling for freedom, but he didn't. Turning his gaze back to the dancing flames again, Harry tried to shut out the crescendo of deafening thoughts that assaulted him. He lay back against the warm, soft fur without even realising and did not even register when his eyes began to droop.

* * *

It was much later that they finally returned to the valley in silence and Harry immediately sought sanctuary in the den. He wrapped the fur cloak (that he had neglected to wear today) around himself and lay flat on his back on the bed, staring up at the canopy above. And there nightfall found him, still staring, still lost in a barrage of confusion and indecision. He couldn't leave; he'd known that for a few weeks now. He'd been trying to make the best of things while he was stuck here and he had done so, in all things except for Fenrir _bloody_ Greyback.

The tension between them was worsened by the incompleteness of their bond – or so Greyback kept saying. It was driving him to madness. He wanted him, yes, the bastard made him feel good but he _knew _he shouldn't want him and he didn't know if that should stop him or not. Despite everything he had learned about him in the last few weeks, Fenrir Greyback _was _a murderer, _was _a vicious beast. _And he is holding me here against my will, whatever his reasons are, _his mind supplied.

With a heavy sigh he closed his eyes and pulled the furs over his head. What was he meant to do? He needed to get out of here but he couldn't and come the full moon…

Suddenly he heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening and closing, followed by Greyback's confident strides across the floor. Harry felt Ghost shift from where he had been laying across his legs and hop off the bed. He always was very respectful in Greyback's presence, always moving to sit with his head bowed in respect as if he were a human servant. He'd enjoyed his run today, Harry thought. He'd awoken in the cave to find the wolf had finally joined them with a juicy rabbit in his clutches – he'd seemed very pleased to have caught it all by himself.

At last Greyback reached the bed, which dipped under his weight as he knelt beside him – Harry's only warning before the furs were tugged from his head and the image of Greyback leaning over him swam into view. He fought to keep his expression vacant as he met that gaze. "Yes?" he asked, nowhere near as nonchalant as he would've hoped. The werewolf had the ability to get him worked up and on edge by just looking at him _and _he knew it, Harry was sure of that.

"I've tolerated this moping all evening, boy," Greyback snapped, glowering down at him in a way that would make even Uncle Vernon recoil. Harry set his jaw and raised his chin in defiance, saying nothing. Greyback continued. "In case you didn't hear, the festivities outside are for us, a celebration of our mating."

At this Harry scoffed. Of course he had heard the music, he wasn't deaf. He'd been valiantly trying to ignore the merriment and smells of delicious food coming into the den since they had begun at nightfall. He cared about Amoux and the others and the fact that they had gone to such effort for him, but how could he honestly go out there and celebrate a union that he considered a fraud?

At that moment, he felt himself tugged to his feet and the cloak he had swaddled himself in all evening wrapped around his shoulders. "I don't care if you sit and sulk in here but Amoux, Accalia and the others went to a lot of effort for you. The pack want to welcome you and camping up here in your misery is the biggest insult to them."

Harry frowned. "I don't want to offend them but I don't want to pretend like I'm happy to spend the rest of my life here when I'm not–"

"But you would be," Greyback murmured, capturing his chin between a rough thumb and forefinger. "Isn't that the problem? This is like a paradise to you."

Harry winced and shook the wolf's grip off his chin. "Don't start that again. Look I somehow managed to get myself irrevocably bound to you and I just don't want to make anymore commitments."

At this, Greyback snorted. "Whatever, I'll probably have a better time out there without you sitting there feeling sorry for yourself and ruining the mood. If you want to stop playing the martyr for five minutes though and show your face out there, it might make Amoux and the others feel more appreciated."

"Are you seriously giving me a lesson on civility?" Harry sneered.

Greyback smirked. "Oh you'd be surprised how nice I can be when it's worth my while," he said wolfishly, before vanishing out the door, closing it behind him.

When Harry eventually moved out into the night the stars were shining, uninhibited by clouds in the sky and the moon was bright but not yet full. Music filled the air. With a sigh Harry followed Ghost over to the circle, the moonlight rippling through the wolf's glossy fur as he moved, guiding him to the festivities that had been calling to him all evening.

Accalia smiled as he spotted him and beckoned him over. Almost everyone was dancing or singing around the circle. The children had long since gone to bed it seemed (for he had heard their screeches of delight earlier) and any sight of the meal he had smelled earlier had vanished.

"Amoux has kept your meal warm for you," Accalia said in his usual soft voice, hopping up nimbly and bringing back a large plate that had been covered with a charmed bowl to keep it warm. Harry smiled gratefully and not wanting to make anymore of an arse of himself this evening, he lifted the upper bowl. His mouth watered at the sight of the finely roasted meat (pork he thought it smelled like, though he couldn't be sure) and potatoes that had been lightly charred to luscious crispiness. There were some greens too, although he couldn't identify them exactly.

"Thank you," he said, still a little sheepish thanks to the fact that he knew this meal was prepared especially for him alone. "You and everyone for all of this." He gestured to the festivities and Accalia's lips quirked into a broad grin.

"We just want you to feel welcome here and for you to know that Weylyn and Ulric, they're the minority here, everyone is happy that you have come. You're a blessing to us," Accalia explained, his eyes drifting to where Amoux was among those dancing in the circle, Echo giving her a twirl around the fire with the rest of them.

"A blessing because I could give Greyback kids someday?" Harry asked cautiously. "But what if I don't?"

Accalia's smile did not falter as he regarded him. "You're one of us now, we wouldn't disown you for not doing so, that is not our way," he explained. Harry frowned, their selfless and sincere good-heartedness confusing him immensely. He didn't understand how people that had been so wronged could be so…_good_. He tucked into his food, not knowing how to answer Accalia's honest words. Unconditional acceptance; it was hard to believe since he had only ever received it from Hermione, the Weasleys and probably his parents when they were alive.

The food tasted as delicious as it had smelled and he filled his belly to capacity until with a groan he set the bowl down for Ghost to finish off. Accalia smiled at him. "You've got a good appetite, that's a good sign for one just awoken. But then you are used to being the exception the way I've heard it," Accalia said, before adding, "I know that you weren't always unique in a good way before, but trust me when I say we won't ever be as capricious with you as most of the wizarding world has been."

Harry smirked. "That's encouraging." But before he could say another word, the music halted and some of the people dancing took their seats breathlessly as it began to change. Amoux took a seat beside him, happy to see him. "I do love to dance but I'll leave the next number for someone younger," she laughed, fanning herself with her hand before taking up a tankard from by her feet and taking a deep swig.

Harry glanced to where everyone was dancing around the fire to the now low, heavily acoustic music being played by the handful that sat just off to the side of the circle. The beat was low but fast and Harry flushed as he watched the bodies swaying closely together. The leading partner threw their sub out, twirling and dancing them on the tips of their toes before tugging them roughly back to their chests. Each time the rhythm reached a pique of a particular section the sub was twirled briefly into the embrace of a neighbouring dancer, only to return to their true partner, grinding subtly into them with rolling, undulating hips.

Harry caught sight of Greyback among the writhing bodies and for some reason, he saw red. His entire body stiffened as he watched Greyback catch Larentia's body and tug her back to him, her hips grinding shamelessly into his before she was whirled back out again. There was an irrefutable pleasure in her eyes that made Harry's blood boil. Beside him, he knew that Amoux and Accalia must have sensed his anger or seen what he was staring at for they both murmured his name warily. He didn't listen. He flew to his feet.

"Stay," he said shortly to Ghost as the wolf leapt up to follow him, before storming forwards. _"Whatever, I'll probably have a better time out there without you sitting there feeling sorry for yourself and ruining the mood…"_ Greyback had said that. _Oh I bet he'd prefer if I never came out at all, _Harry thought furiously, _so he can rub himself against some slut just because I haven't put out in…_

Greyback hadn't responded to her, hadn't grinded his hips back in acceptance as the others were doing with their partners, but he'd still let her do it and that was just as bad. He'd said that he and Harry were equals in this but they evidently weren't if he, Harry was forced to stay trapped here and watch Greyback frolic with whomever he pleased. He didn't care if it was just a dance, he didn't give a shit if everyone's hormones were up in the air because of the moon either. If he was stuck marked as Greyback's bitch, a possession then it was only fair that Greyback was the same.

Just as Greyback threw Larentia out and her hand came back to seize his once more, Harry's fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist. She stopped, as did Greyback although the others continued the dance, not having noticed the intervention. Harry glared hotly at her, fighting the urge to bear his teeth and snarl like an animal. Instead he shoved her aside and locked his fingers in the fabric of Greyback's shirt, tugging him sharply towards him.

His mind was overwhelmed with the undeniable heat of anger and lust both, his skin tingling with familiar hormones. Behind them, Larentia gave a growl of irritation as she slunk off away from the circle of bodies dancing around the fire, but as Harry's head whipped around to retaliate, Fenrir's fingers knotted in his hair, keeping his gaze locked on his.

Azure eyes shone brightly in the darkness, ringed with amber fire. Fenrir snarled in pleasure at the sight and feel of him, pulling him tight to his body as he continued to move as if his dance had never been interrupted. This time, however, he held Harry's hips close to his with his free hand, guiding them in slow gyrations, their groins contacting with every other movement.

Harry glared up at him obstinately with blazing emerald eyes, grinding challengingly forward into their increasingly intimate dance, unwilling to let Fenrir win. His fingers curled punishingly into Fenrir's flesh through his shirt. When everyone else twirled their partners briefly into their neighbours embrace, Harry winced as Fenrir's fingers dug into him tightly, refusing to let him escape.

The music was speeding up, the intensity heightening and their movements grew tighter and more urgent. Harry glanced to the side and caught Larentia watching them both with venom. "She wants you," he managed out through the haze clouding his mind with. Words were hard to form. Fenrir tugged his head back again, forcing Harry to look on him and he swore he felt his teeth ache with longing at the sight of Fenrir's broad throat. Longing to bite and mark so that everyone knew…

"Does she now?" Fenrir growled huskily, whirling him on the tips of his toes before tugging him back harshly to his body, his feet barely touching the floor. "It was just a dance with her, pet, with you it's more." Suddenly the beat lurched into overdrive, a throng of sensuality and carnal emotions. Those creating the music with their primitive and yet so beautiful sounding instruments howled to accentuate the symphony, just as Fenrir and the others threw their partners out across the roaring fire.

Harry gasped, feeling the warmth of the fire skim his flesh before Fenrir hauled him back in close so that he could not even feel the ground beneath him, their breathless chests touching. Screeches of delight filled the air as the others all mimicked their movements with perfect synchronicity. Harry half groaned, half growled. There was but a moment between them where he met Fenrir's eyes, dilated and almost completely amber now. Then his gaze raked over the alpha's neck, tracking the droplet of sweat that swept down the flesh there. He pounced, seizing fistfuls of Fenrir's hair as his mouth latched onto his pulse.

A feral snarl seemed to sweep through every fibre of his being, starting in his toes and vibrating up, up until it spilled over his lips as his teeth pressed hard into Fenrir's flesh. For a moment the hard skin would not give but then the ache in his jaw gave an almost unbearable throb. Fenrir's fingers tugged again at his hair and his teeth sank into the werewolf's neck.

Coppery blood sang on Harry's tongue and the taste startled him into letting go. He drew back sharply, staring up with slightly less inebriated eyes to see Fenrir smirking with feral glee at him and rubbing his neck where the already healing bite mark was shining an angry red. Harry flushed darkly, breathing heavily, lost for words as the music finished and everyone slowly seemed to be realising what had happened.

Before he could fully come back to himself, however, Harry heard the approach of someone off to the side and turned to see Larentia making a beeline for him. "You think you can storm in here and change everything to your liking, you little shit?!" She hissed, coming to a halt before him, towering over him with her eyes dark and her dirty blonde hair mussed from the dancing. "You defy every tradition and law we have gone by since this pack was formed and expect us to lay it all aside for you? You've already made the alpha bleed for your stupidity and you still dare to dictate what he does?!"

"Only _who _he does," Harry sneered, the wolf inside still in control of him. He glared up at the woman that stood head and shoulders above him. He wouldn't allow her to intimidate him. He was the alpha mate not her. "If I'm bound to him then he is to me too. So you and any other bitch without personal boundaries can keep your hands off him."

_SLAP!_

Harry's head was wrenched to the side as she smacked him, hard, full palm across the face. He stood frozen for a moment in both surprise and at the feeling of his senses reining in his instincts once more. At the same time, he was vaguely aware of Echo and a few others flying forwards with snarls of indignation, sending Larentia to her knees in the dirt before him, her arms bent back at an awkward angle to hold her still.

When he finally looked down, Harry saw Echo and two others pinning her in place.

"You have stepped out of line one too many times, Larentia," Echo hissed at her. "The alpha pair command us and whether you like it or not, Harry is part of that pair – from now on irrefutably," he added, glancing up to where the blood had stopped flowing from the mark on Fenrir's throat. Harry flushed but did not tear his eyes away from the scene at his feet. He couldn't believe he had allowed his instincts to control him like that, couldn't believe that he'd marked Fenrir but at the same time he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest. He would worry about all of that later.

"It is you who have had no respect for either of them or our traditions," one of the others aiding Echo murmured in a thick, heavy voice. "He is precious to us–"

"He's a gifted bitch and nothing more!" Larentia screeched from under their hold. Harry could hear her snarling through gritted teeth into the dirt. "He's got too big for his boots and needs to remember he hasn't got werewolf strength or any leadership in him – only the ability to spread his legs and squeeze the alpha's litter from his unworthy belly. He doesn't even want to be here!"

Harry heard the unspoken 'it's not fair' at the end of her words and stared at her for a moment, before kneeling down so that he could see her now dirty, infuriated expression trained on him in hatred. "So that's it?" he said softly. "You want to be the alpha mate and you're resentful because you can't have children." The latter part wasn't a question, he knew he was right and he could feel Fenrir's gaze on him like an ant could feel the burn of the magnifying glass. He was suddenly hyperaware of Fenrir's every breath and wondered if that would be a permanent thing…

"She has insulted you greatly, Alpha Numero," the other wolf at Echo's side said after Larentia and him had both remained silent for some time. "What shall her punishment be?"

Harry could feel the weight of everyone's gazes on him. He stood with a sigh, determinedly not looking at Fenrir as he moved back towards where he had been sitting with Amoux and Accalia – what seemed like an age before. "Let her go," he said. There was an outbreak of disbelieving whispers as Echo and the others did as they were asked. Larentia stormed away but Harry didn't care about any of it, not even when he felt Fenrir catch him by the arm and steer him slightly away from the circle.

"Why did you waive her punishment?" Fenrir asked, not critically, but in a voice of genuine interest. From the look on his face it didn't seem like he could fathom it. "Werewolves can hold grudges you know; you'll regret letting her off so easily. An alpha needs to run the pack with a firm hand."

Harry sighed again and rolled his eyes. "Didn't you say I could relax and leave all the worrying up to you?" he said dismissively. "You can be the firm hand for both of us." At that Fenrir gripped his backside hard and dragged him in close so that the was staring down into Harry's face. He wasn't letting go without an answer, it seemed.

"Just because I'm a bloke doesn't mean I can't understand her pain," Harry muttered, glancing over to the circle where the festivities had resumed as if nothing had happened. "I can see it in all of them; she wants to do what her body was made to do but can never achieve. She wants children but unlike Amoux and Accalia and the others, she won't be satisfied by adopting, she wants her own of her flesh and blood – I can have that and she can't," he paused then, taking a glance up at Fenrir before adding, "and I just swan in and somehow manage to get the mate she wants without even trying, on top of that. I have everything she wants and she feels I'm ungrateful. It's sad, that's all."

After a long moment something akin to a smile touched the corners of Fenrir's mouth and he leant down, brushing his callous thumb over the corner of Harry's lips. "You have a foolishly good heart," he said bluntly, but with a look in his eyes that made Harry's cheeks darken again. Fenrir's almost smile widened into a smirk as he pressed closer, so that their lips were nearly touching.

"That was a good dance, pet," he breathed hotly against Harry's mouth. Harry could not help but gasp and inhale him, his head swimming again. He tilted his head a fraction before he knew what he was doing, ready to accept Fenrir's mouth on his. But as those lips descended and he felt that stubble tickle his face, the alpha's words caressed his tongue through his slightly parted lips

once more.

"But I think the sexiest thing I've ever seen is you storming between me and another bitch like a possessive demon and spreading your scent all over me."

Harry's face burned with mortification and arousal. He knew Fenrir could sense it because he could feel his delight in it pulsing through the air around them as surely as if it were a solid entity.

"You were all over me, pet," Fenrir continued, "I like it and I can feel how much better you feel now you've marked me." With that he turned Harry's head to the side slightly, inhaling his scent and staring down at his mark that was now such a startling silver in colour that it almost glowed in the dim light.

"I'll help you finish him," he murmured against Harry's throat, his nose trailing softly over his marked skin. "I'll wipe him off the face of the earth."

Harry groaned, his back arching as Fenrir bent him backwards, mouthing the oversensitive flesh of his neck until his fingers scraped urgently over Fenrir's shoulders.

"Lupa and Hemming are looking for your little friends, they'll help them. We'll be able to move more freely and do more once _He _is convinced you're nothing to worry about but until then…" He nudged Harry's jaw with his nose to make him turn his head back and held his gaze as his mouth whispered over his, as if scenting his breath. "Play with me, pet."

Suddenly Harry's mouth was being taken, swiftly and sweetly with such hunger that it made him groan into the kiss. For someone who claimed they didn't like 'human kisses' Fenrir was awfully voracious. He grasped Harry tightly, pulling him straight off his feet as he ravaged his tongue with the tip of his, tracing the along it, tasting the sides and scraping it gently with his own muscle.

Harry felt the coppery taste leave his mouth to be replaced with nothing but Fenrir. That tongue swept across the teeth that had broken his skin only a few moments before.

"Stay with me," Fenrir growled into his mouth, punctuating his words by nipping Harry's kiss-bruised lip just enough to make him squirm and thrust his arousal into Fenrir's belly.

"Please," Harry panted, without really knowing what he was begging for. But before he could even worry about it, he was being tossed onto his arse on a familiar bed of furs. Firelight illuminated Fenrir's body as it arched above him, stripping swiftly. Then the alpha was on him again, his nails scraping across his buttocks until he arched up enough for his trousers to be tugged off of him.

When Harry looked up next he swore he could see the colours of the _Heart's Spectrum_ blazing in a myriad of reds around them. Not just with his feelings, but with Fenrir's as well. He could feel them as clearly as if they were his own, running alongside his, entwining with his until he wasn't quite sure which was which.

*****CENSORED. FOR FULL SCENE PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE*****

"Sexy," Fenrir grumbled in approval before rolling back onto the furs. He tugged Harry with him until they were resting with his chest to Harry's back, and his nose resting against his neck just under his ear again.

"I'm sticky," Harry muttered in half-hearted protest, his cheeks still flushed from their lovemaking and his body still tingling in all the wrong places. He swore he could still feel Fenrir inside him. Those arms tightened around him and he stilled, feeling the alpha's heart beat slowing down to normal against his sweat-dampened back. He could not deny how good it felt to lay here like that and he wasn't sure that he wanted to deny it either.

"Did you mean what you said?" he asked, breaking the silence when he could trust his voice not to crack, although his words were slightly coarse from all the noises he had made. "Before," he elaborated, "about helping me to get rid of Vol– _Him_?"

Fenrir seemed to freeze for a moment, before rolling him onto his back so that he could stare down into his eyes. All of the amber had vanished now, leaving only clear shining blue. "I don't lie, pet, I can't to you," he said in his usual rough voice. "I don't give a shit about_ Him_, but you do and that makes it my problem. Besides," he paused a moment, considering Harry closely. Harry could feel an odd flutter of emotions that weren't his own inside him but could not identify exactly what Fenrir was feeling as he muttered, "if he's out of the way, you'll be able to focus solely on me."

Harry stared at him, stunned by the sincerity in his words before he turned his head to the side and scoffed awkwardly. "Typical, greedy bastard–"

"Oh very," Fenrir smirked, turning his face back to look on him, ensuring their eyes met once more before he continued. "But I meant what I said; we have to wait until he thinks you're not a threat, until Hemming and Lupa report back from your friends at least. And if you try to run off and handle things on your own beforehand I'll drag your arse back here every time." His voice was stern and unmoveable but that odd unidentifiable fluttering of his emotions was still swimming through Harry's head.

Eventually Harry sighed, he could tell that there was no scheming maliciousness or lies in his words, he _felt_ the truth in him and the last few weeks had showed him a slight insight into the pack's ways. They shared their troubles, so he knew what Fenrir thought on his situation with Voldemort. He would accept his words for now, but he wouldn't sit here forever, content to wait it out while everyone else risked their necks. Things would no doubt be much easier with Fenrir's help, however, especially as Harry knew that despite his flaws, he would have his back whatever happened.

They were bound together now; there was no going back. He finally appreciated that for what it meant now. He would never feel alone, never _be _alone again and that wasn't all that bad, was it?

"What's going to happen at the full moon?" Harry asked after a while, realising awkwardly that Fenrir had been looking thoughtfully at him the entire time.

"You're mine now, utterly, completely and you can wash 'til your skin is red raw but you'll smell like you're mine as well," Fenrir explained, leaning in so that his nose stroked down the side of Harry's. "I couldn't kill you now, even as a wolf and the rest of the pack will know you even in that state as well. They might play rough but you'll come to no harm with us, pet."

Harry thought about his words and the sincerity of them before he nodded slowly, trying to ignore the uneasiness concerning the full moon that failed to ebb from the forefront of his mind. Evidently sensing his agitation, Fenrir tilted his head, his tongue swiping across Harry's lips before his mouth mimicked the motion swiftly. When he drew back, he rolled onto his side and let a possessive, heavy arm fall over Harry's body. His nose nestled into the marked side of Harry's throat. He was sniffing him again, as if his scent were an addictive drug.

"You kiss me a lot you realise, considering it's a 'human' thing," Harry muttered, unable to help himself.

Fenrir snorted, pinching Harry's earlobe between his teeth in teasing punishment. "I suppose they had to get some things right – they seem to manage fucking quite well," he said lewdly, running a hand over Harry's stomach. "Their beer is pretty good too."

Rolling his eyes, Harry seized Fenrir's wandering hand as it was about to skip lower and turned his head so that the wolf was forced to look at him instead of inhaling his throat. "All the important things?" Harry mused tiredly.

Fenrir smirked. "Well, the humans that made you did an alright job as well I s'pose."

Harry stared at him. "I think I bit you a bit too hard earlier, that was almost sentimental."

At this Fenrir let out a sound that was part growl, part bark-like laugh as he rolled Harry on top of him, seizing the hair at the base of his skull with mock ferocity in his fist. "And I don't think I fucked you hard enough if you've still got the energy to give me cheek," the wolf murmured huskily, his voice thick with promise.

_~To Be Continued..._


	10. Only the Moon Howls

.: Chapter Ten :.

Only the Moon Howls

A heavy veil of icy fog settled over Harry's dreams over the next few days. He didn't see anything in particular when he slept but he could sense Voldemort's grasping, spider-like fingers clawing frantically at the world, searching for his mind. Harry was for once perfectly safe from his thoughts and he could not help but wonder how long it would take for Voldemort's paranoia to overwhelm him.

Fenrir assured him there was no way Voldemort could get in – that no one could get in if they weren't part of the pack and even if he could, as far as Voldemort was concerned Harry was being tortured into an amicable lap dog. "With his connection to your mind blocked he has no way of telling otherwise," Fenrir had said, but when Harry asked what would happen if Voldemort called for him to produce his 'prisoner' as he'd promised, Fenrir could offer nothing more than "we'll jump off that bridge when we come to it, pet."

The last few days had been…_something, _however. Everyone, even Ghost seemed to notice the change between the alpha pair.

Heat tingled across Harry's skin like thousands of tiny zaps of electricity tugging at every hair on his body. He remembered the deep insatiable ache in his belly, the call of his moon heat from last month. This time however, anyone that so much as looked at Harry for longer than a moment had their heads nearly bitten off by Fenrir in his own frustrated, possessive moon heat.

It'd gotten to the point where Accalia had even been growled at warningly when he'd come to relieve Harry of the twins, who had been spinning around him with glee all morning. The children were allowed to climb all over him, it seemed, but no adult – mated or not was permitted within a few feet. Oddly enough though, Harry understood it.

Fenrir was horny and possessive because the moon was bringing their instincts to the surface and among the pack, everyone seemed to be more…_animal _with each day approaching the full moon night. Even Harry was feeling it today; he had the unmistakeable urge to go down on his knees and grind himself shamelessly against Fenrir's body, but had thankfully managed to refrain – for now.

After Weylyn had invaded the invisible boundary around Harry on his way past him and ended up in a (apparently harmless) tussle on the ground with his alpha, Harry had 'suggested' he and Fenrir take a walk again. It was quite interesting, the power of his persuasion at this time of the month; Fenrir seemed quite amicable to anything he suggested.

"Will you let me run you, pet?" Fenrir growled as they walked through the winding tunnels that lead out of the mountain, Ghost's pale fur glowing in the dim light ahead. Harry was distracted by the healthy; eager bound of the adolescent wolf ahead and failed to answer in his distraction. Unfortunately, his mate's already fragile patience was completely absent today. Abruptly Fenrir seized Harry's throat, pulling his head back so that he could press his nose against the silver scar at Harry's neck. He inhaled and it seemed to calm the ferocity in him a little. But Harry already knew werewolves were temperamental and feisty, even more so near the moon.

"Let me chase you," Fenrir murmured, licking him.

"Soon," Harry promised, pacifying him before moving out of Fenrir's hold and following Ghost through the tunnels, the alpha close behind him. He didn't know what it was that he had with Fenrir, but he liked it, liked the feel of him when he was close by. Even he couldn't deny that a zing of arousal burst through him whenever the werewolf grabbed him as he had a moment ago. He was born for this, he supposed, as everyone had been saying for the last month.

Once they were a few feet out of the cave and the entrance to it had closed up behind them, a low, impatient half-whine, half-growl sounded from behind him. Harry turned to see the familiar silver wolf staring back at him with eyes rimmed with gold, panting heavily. His legs and tail were stiff, his ears erect and forward – showing every inch his dominance. He was staring penetratingly at Harry but when Harry didn't move, his stiff tail moved high and wagged from side to side playfully. He wanted Harry to run.

Harry stared at him levelly for a moment, and bent down to retrieve Fenrir's trousers that had fallen to the ground as he'd transformed. Tugging off his own trousers (his shirt long forgotten in the den, for he could not bear the feel of clothes on his skin at this time) he offered them to Ghost, who gripped them between his teeth.

"Meet you at the waterfall," he said and with a muffled yip, Ghost sped off like a wolf on a mission, the garments tightly gripped in his jaws.

It felt good to get out of those restricting, itchy, unbearable clothes; so good that Harry gave a sigh. His instincts ruling his actions meant that he didn't care so much about his nudity. Modesty didn't occur to a werewolf and the werewolf in him was the most dominant at the moment, with the moon tugging at his senses. It wasn't too far away.

A sharp growl reminded him that his mate was watching and Harry cocked his head. The wolf's tail was wagging more frantically now. A low whine left his own human lips as he stepped forwards, reaching out and running his fingers over Fenrir's muzzle. He smirked when the giant wolf nudged into his hand, dipping his head so that Harry's fingers slid back over his furry ears. A rumbling sound of contentment left him when Harry spanned the remaining space between them, resting his head against Fenrir's neck and dragging his fingers firmly through his thick silvery fur.

His sensory perception in overdrive, Harry mimicked the sound at the feel of that soft coat tickling his chest. "Nice," he managed out; his voice low and almost lost on the air. He couldn't manage more than one or two words at a time at the moment, incoherent sounds and actions felt so much more natural.

With a rumbling sound of agreement, Fenrir nudged him firmly, sending him stumbling back a few feet. He still wanted to play chase it seemed and Harry was more than happy to oblige. In an instant he'd turned and bolted into the trees, the pounding of Fenrir's paws on the earth sounding loudly as he flew after him.

The familiar rush of excitement from the chase pounded through his body and Harry found himself purposefully brushing against trees on his way through the forest, leaving a trail of his scent in his wake. A quick glance round showed his tactics driving his pursuer into frenzy, pausing to sniff frantically at anything Harry had rubbed against with his tail high.

If anyone had told him a month ago he would be running through the forest _naked _with Fenrir Greyback he would have keeled over laughing, but this felt so…right. Right now, it was as Fenrir had said before, the wolf and the human were one in the same. With a breathless smirk Harry dove between two trees, coming out panting and sweaty by the pool and waterfall they had been at only a few days ago. Ghost was lounging beside their clothes far to the side and pricked his ears at the sight of him, ever watchful.

On hearing Fenrir coming up behind him, Harry sloped down into the pool quickly but silently, taking a deep gasp of air before submerging himself in the water. He waited, perfectly still under the cover of the lightly rippling surface but after a moment or too, his lungs began to ache for air. Cautiously, he pushed his head above the surface and gasped as he saw the silver wolf standing on the edge, watching him with those piercing eyes. The alpha growled playfully, Harry's only warning before he leapt in after him with an almighty crash of his body against the water.

Harry's sounds of laughter were cut short as Fenrir dragged him under, circling him with great swipes of his feet treading the water. His massive muzzle pressed into Harry as he moved, the power of him sending Harry gliding back in the pool. Harry let it happen, holding his breath and kicking his feet to stay afloat. As they moved he ran his fingers through Fenrir's fur, revelling in the way it felt to his heightened senses.

After a moment, when the need for breath was just beginning to ache in his lungs, Fenrir's nose nudged him upward. He rolled over the wolf's head in the water until he was lying with his belly on Fenrir's back. A rumble reverberated through the pool and Fenrir surged up, breaking the surface along with Harry, who gasped in the delicious air that was so fresh on his tongue. He even relished the very feel of the droplets of water rushing down over his bare skin.

Harry gave a small, inhuman yip of breathless delight and gripped Fenrir tightly with his thighs to keep himself secure as the wolf ambled out of the pool. He shook himself dry fiercely and Harry hung on tighter to avoid being dislodged, only to roll down off the side and land with a thud on the grassy bank.

At their side, Ghost was wagging his tail, apparently happy to see Harry enjoying himself. Harry beamed at him, about to roll onto his front to move closer to him only to have a massive paw pin him carefully (but firmly) in place on his back. The rough pads tickled his stomach and he squirmed, whining deep in his throat when Fenrir leant down to sniff at his neck.

Harry turned his head to the side in sated submission, lying completely flat, content and unhampered by the need to make any decisions or fight to draw his next breath. It was peace he felt as Fenrir snuffled at his neck, then his chest and stomach, skipping down to rub his face along the length of Harry's legs and feet. The wolf scented him thoroughly before stretching out on the grass beside him with a grunt of contentment.

Harry moved over on all fours until he came to lay across Fenrir's back. He rubbed his cheek into the warm fur at the back of his neck, sighing at the sensations he felt rushing through him. With every day that passed he was becoming more aware of everything, more understanding of himself for the first time in his life.

The sun warmed the sleeping trio, allowing them to bask in its heat together, that was until a call of nature tugged Harry awake. He groaned, letting his muscles stretch as he rolled carefully off of Fenrir's back and glanced around for a place to relieve himself. He raked his fingers through the grass, relishing its cool caress on his limbs before he rose to his feet, striding into the bushes. Leaning against a tree with one shoulder, he took hold of his penis and relieved himself at its roots, the slight ache in his bladder subsiding slowly.

Just as the flow had died, however, he felt an overwhelming presence behind him. His limbs tightened briefly and he groaned before dropping to his knees. He could smell a dominant; he needed to show his submission. The dominant partners were possessive and territorial and Fenrir even more so over him because of what he was – a breeder. But he, Harry was only one of a few and so carried instincts that urged him to preserve himself when they were at their peak. He knew what to do to ensure his life; it was engrained in him so deep he didn't even need to think.

"Oh, baby you're a bonny little thing," a familiar coarse voice whispered. Harry lowered his eyes and didn't move as the male circled him, coming to stand before him. "You smell of the alpha, but you're so ready and all alone."

Harry did not move even as, out of the corner of his eye he watched the male direct his own long, limp cock to spray over the place Harry had just relieved himself.

Harry swallowed uneasily, the other male was double-marking, he knew what that meant and he shuffled backwards to avoid the flow. A warning growl froze him before he got more than a few feet away. He whined low – in fear and submission rather than bliss as he had with Fenrir earlier and rolled onto his back, exposing his throat and stomach in his one greatest defence mechanism.

It was fur that he saw above him next rather than a man, dark brown fur mottled with white and grey but carrying a scent he recognised. The wolf was big but not quite as big as Fenrir, Harry realised as the beast moved to stand over him, snuffling firmly at his hair and neck, probably smelling Fenrir all over him. Harry arched his back and spread his legs in the dirt, willing his alpha's scenting to rise from his skin and whined again when he felt teeth skim his silver mark.

Then, suddenly he saw it, the beast's large unsheathed red penis, erect and hovering just a few inches from him. Panic seized him and he snarled in fear and fury at once. Bunching his legs under the monster's stomach he kicked hard upwards, sending the creature rearing back in winded shock.

Harry gasped and rolled onto his feet, bolting from the cover of the trees. The wolf swiped at him, sending him hurtling into the ground. He yelped as the beast nudged his hind-quarters up and began shifting behind him in a way that made Harry's stomach lurch. This wolf was strong but it wasn't his mate. He could feel the heat coming off of the creature's body overwhelming him and he snarled again. When a large paw came down threateningly beside his head he instinctively lashed out and sank his blunt teeth as hard as he could into the leg it was attached to.

It was hard enough to leave the taste of hot metallic blood in his mouth and he growled again, spitting the blood out and kicking the creature hard on his muzzle when his mouth descended in a would-be subduing bite. A huge paw swiped him across the cheek, sending his head snapping to the side so that he could taste his own blood in his mouth next. But just as that jaw descended to punish him, another snarl came from the side and Harry saw a flash of grey as Ghost flew over him, his fangs sinking hard into his assailant's muzzle.

Harry shoved up onto his haunches as Ghost dropped back to his side on his paws, his tail high and mouth drawn back in aggression. It reassured him, but it was the low rumble of a growl that Harry _felt_ more than heard beside him that made his panic subside. The alpha's presence made the very air he breathed in thick and warm. Still, Harry had another's scent clinging to him now, that wasn't right. He whined again, rolling onto his back and staring up as the familiar silver wolf came into view, standing over him but with his eyes locked on the attacker.

It was as if he hadn't noticed Harry at all. Despair filled him. He wanted his alpha to acknowledge him, to show him that he wasn't angry at him for the scent that tainted his own. Harry pressed his head hard into the dirt and arched a little, letting a low, desperate sound trickle over his lips. That pitiful sound made Fenrir's head jerk down to him, his eyes almost completely overwhelmed with gold.

That silver head descended and Harry arched up to meet it. A relieved exhalation left him when that muzzle nuzzled him intimately at his throat and torso, a long wet tongue swiping at the length of him in assurance. Fenrir butted him gently with his nose on the bruised side of his face, urging him back onto his feet. Slowly, Harry rose and caressed his alpha's flanks as he walked behind him out of the way.

As he moved out of their range with Ghost at his side, still watching the two werewolves stare each other out, Harry felt his mind clearing a little of the haze of instincts. With their hormones all running so high, he was sure that the pheromones his 'dominant' colleagues were putting out were a large part of why he had lost himself a little just then. That and the warm throb of the moon's presence growing ever nearer.

Still, he flushed as he remembered what he had done a moment ago and moved towards where they had relaxed earlier to pull his trousers back on, suddenly aware of his nudity too. No sooner had he covered what little remained of his dignity, however, than all hell broke loose. A living ball of fur, fangs and snarling bodies rolled across the dirt. A roar Harry identified as Fenrir's filled the clearing – it carried through Harry's body like an earthquake and he stood still as he watched the silver wolf throw the darker one from his body, sending it sprawling across the ground.

It was not in 'weakness' that he stood still, but in 'rightness'. It was Fenrir's responsibility to fight as the alpha, as his mate and he knew that deep down. Despite his true mind returning to him, he could not force himself to move knowing that.

The other wolf groaned as he morphed back into a man, a sign of contrition even as he stumbled to his feet. Still a wolf, Fenrir snarled at him again and pawed at the earth, his fangs bared warningly. Harry watched as the assailant, _Weylyn _bowed his head and exposed his neck in apology to Fenrir.

"Alpha, forgive me – it's the moon tonight and I was having a run when I smelt his fluids. I am sorry, I was too weak, Alpha, he smelt so–"

_SLAM!_

A swipe of Fenrir's massive paw sent him sprawling back in the dirt and Harry watched as Weylyn clasped his face and blood wept from his chin onto the ground. _He's paying him back in kind for what he did to me, _Harry realised, _before he punishes him for the sheer disrespect of his actions. _He'd lived with them for nearly a month and he knew how precious reverence was among the pack.

"Fenrir!" Harry shouted, forcing back his instinct to remain still when he watched the silver wolf lunge for Weylyn again. "Fenrir, stop you'll kill him!" He bolted across the grass, surprising himself with his own speed and strength as he found himself in front of Fenrir and on all fours between him and Weylyn. He gasped and Fenrir skidded to a halt in the dirt, growling at him, leaving no room to mistake his meaning. _Get out of the way._

"You have other ways of punishing – the moon heat is making us all mad," Harry tried to reason with him. With a final snarl, the silver wolf jerked and morphed back into the man Harry knew, visibly seething.

"You forget that he was eager to rape you but a month ago with my scent still on you!" Fenrir snapped through gritted teeth, "there are only so many times a disrespectful pig like him can be forgiven." He moved forwards, evidently expecting Harry to move but Harry reached out, shoving Fenrir's shoulders hard. The sharpness of the action halted him again, even though Harry didn't say another word.

With a snarl, Fenrir reached up, his rough thumb brushing over Harry's mouth, tugging his lip up at the corner to see blood there. "He hurt you," Fenrir said with a mixture of barely concealed anger and disgust in his voice.

"I hurt him back," Harry replied, reaching up and wrapping his fingers around Greyback's wrist. "I bit the fucker. It's done."

At that, Fenrir snorted and gave Harry one last lingering look before circling around him and staring down at Weylyn, who had wisely not risen from his hands and knees where he had last landed in the dirt. "My mate wants me to forgive you, but I know you're a rotten egg, one that can't be saved. If you fuck up again, Weylyn–"

"Alpha. I won't disrespect you again–"

"Or my mate!" Fenrir roared, towering over him. "You seem to have a problem with boundaries when it comes to him. But however good he smells or looks he's mine. The fact that his pheromones call out to you more than any other sub should only make you want to prove your will and resist."

Weylyn bowed his head and swallowed audibly, keeping his posture contrite and suitably submissive. Fenrir sneered at him. "You tried to double mark him, you tried to take what wasn't yours…" He paused to let the dramatic effect fester for a moment and then added, "hold out your hands."

Harry _felt _the foreboding in that tone more than heard it and saw Weylyn raise his head a fraction in fear.

"Hold out your hands!" Fenrir roared when Weylyn did not comply immediately. At the bark, Weylyn shakily obeyed. Harry's entire body tensed along with his as Fenrir shot forwards, seizing one wrist and yanking Weylyn up onto his knees by it. With a final snarl, the alpha jerked his hand and twisted the other wolf's forefinger, yanking it back with a sickening snap.

Weylyn screamed. Harry winced but stood still, Ghost now at his side, leaning slightly against him as if to comfort him. Harry reached down and scratched behind his ears gently, distracting himself from the revolting screams and crunching of bones as Fenrir shattered the other three fingers in turn. When he was done, Fenrir shoved the hands back at Weylyn in disgust and held his own palm out expectantly.

"Give me the other," he demanded when Weylyn did nothing but hug his wounded hand to him. "Don't make me wait!" It was a disturbing sight when Harry watched Weylyn offer up his uninjured hand. He wasn't sure what to make of the satisfaction he felt emanating from Fenrir as he broke each of Weylyn's other fingers like twigs, the nauseating bloody crunching echoing through the clearing.

"I'll leave you your thumbs, which is more than you deserve," Fenrir snapped, stepping back from the quivering wolf with disgust. "Now get back to the den and report to Echo for your duties."

Weylyn did not wait for Fenrir to change his mind. He bolted from where he lay without preamble, fazing into the wolf as he went and limping clumsily out of sight. It was not until Harry felt Fenrir's heat against his skin and two strong arms around his waist that he tore his eyes from the place in the trees that Weylyn had disappeared through.

"You didn't care for my punishment," Fenrir muttered, tilting Harry's chin up to him, running his thumb across Harry's lower lip thoughtfully.

"I don't like suffering of any kind," Harry murmured, "but I do understand why you did it." He paused a smirk touching his lips. "It's because you care about me." He remembered wanting to kill Bellatrix when she had killed Sirius. He remembered wanting to tear Snape limb from limb when Dumbledore had…

"_Do I_ now?" Fenrir murmured coarsely, his large fingers curling slightly on Harry's bare back, grazing his skin lightly with his claws. "Believe me, pet, if he'd have seriously hurt or touched you there would be no force in the world that would stop me from ripping his throat out. You're mine." He spoke with a familiar possessiveness and reverence that filled Harry up from the inside with vibrating heat. The rumbling in his throat made Harry relax in his arms slightly and he closed his eyes, rolling his head to the side to let Fenrir nuzzle into his throat.

"I'd have probably ripped his balls off if he'd hurt you," Harry muttered. He felt Fenrir chuckle into his throat, punctuating the sound by nipping his silver-hued mark affectionately. He urged Harry closer into his chest so that he could share his body's warmth with him.

Once the anxiety that had ruled him since Weylyn had approached him faded completely, Harry spoke again. "If I'm an alpha too, why couldn't I stand up to Weylyn?" he asked.

Fenrir drew back a fraction to meet his eyes. "It's because you're in heat. Your instincts tell you to remain healthy and safe and in prime condition for breeding tonight. Your prime objective is to achieve that," Fenrir explained. "Under normal circumstances you wouldn't let him get one over on you so easy. You're superior to him in rank and will be in strength one day soon as well."

Harry snorted, doubting that extremely, although he had noticed his abilities growing at a much faster rate than he'd anticipated. "Perhaps I'll be so strong one day that you'll bare your neck to me," he smirked without any human inhibition, leaning up on the tips of his toes to graze Fenrir's throat with his lips. The werewolf growled low in pleasure.

"And that's what you want, pet?"

Harry tilted his head to the side with a purposeful croon. "I want you to fuck me, before we have to get back for the full moon rising."

"Mmm, yes…" Fenrir breathed, gripping Harry's hair and tugging gently until his head was pulled back and he could mouth those lips ravenously. "I'm going to fill you up so good the scent of me will be buried in you 'til the _next _moon…"

* * *

The rising of the full moon was like a party to the pack, Harry discovered. They had a ravenous feast early under the orange light of the sun to sate their appetites and therefore calm their wolves as much as possible. The excitement as the sun set was nearly tangible, especially in the children who currently were running around him in excited circles. Some were dropping onto all-fours and pretending to be wolves already, pouncing and tussling with each other in the grass.

"Alright, take it slow," Harry admonished one of Accalia's twins, lifting her from where she had pinned Vilkas to the floor and setting her on her feet. "You've just eaten don't climb all over each other yet." The girl squeaked and threw herself at him instead, barrelling into his legs and sending him staggering to the floor. He gave an "_oof"_ as he landed in the grass and the other tots scrambled over to dog-pile on top of him.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. He rolled onto his stomach and attempt to crawl away with one or two toddlers still hanging off his back.

"Rawr!" Vilkas growled in his best impression of a bloodthirsty beast and pounced on him, sending the other, larger tots tumbling off into the grass. He dived down, miming biting Harry's shoulder. Harry laughed and reached back, hauling the small body over his shoulder and onto the ground in front of him.

"Mine!" Vilkas cooed and Harry frowned. "I bit you!" the child elaborated at sight of his confusion.

Harry flushed a little, realising what he meant. "You think I'm your mate?" he laughed. "Don't let Greyback hear that, you may be small but he's very possessive," he teased, seizing the boy under his armpits and rolling him back onto his feet so the tumbling game of chase could continue.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Weylyn return from his 'final check' of the forest and surrounding areas. To his relief, he gave the report to Echo and not Fenrir, who wasn't in sight at the moment. Apparently it was Weylyn's job to ensure there was no one in their territory before dark and so reduce the unsettled, territorial nature of the pack. He was the last one back in and Harry watched him turn to close the gate to the outside world. The moon must be coming soon, that was why Harry's skin felt all…_tingly_, as if he had pins and needles all over his body.

Then, at last he felt it. The moon was here.

"Come," Fenrir's coarse, gravelly voice murmured close to his ear and a shiver ran through him. Harry scooped Vilkas off his back once more before he was steered away towards Fenrir's den. Fenrir left the door behind them ajar, but they were perfectly secluded in the warm dimly lit cavern that had become so comfortable to him in the last few weeks.

He remained compliant, allowing Fenrir to steer him over to the bed. He sat on the edge, staring up at Fenrir as the alpha slowly began to strip.

"You may not turn but you'll run on instinct alone tonight as well," Fenrir explained huskily, not tearing his eyes away as he let his shirt and trousers fall to the floor. "The pack won't hurt you, you're above them in rank. If anyone except me challenges you, stand your ground – they will back down."

Harry nodded, licking his suddenly dry lips anxiously. His fingers curled tight into the furs lining the bed. This was mad, absolutely mad! "If I'm safe, why are we hidden in here?" Harry asked cautiously.

Fenrir smirked. "Because the change is a personal thing for a werewolf and his mate when the other half is a carrier of the recessive gene," he explained with a look on his face that made Harry even more nervous. "I didn't think you'd appreciate everyone seeing you like that, especially when you don't know what to expect…" He trailed off there and Harry nodded mutely, licking his lips again.

"Don't fuck me as the wolf," Harry breathed, his words stiff and unyielding but heavy with unspoken pleading. "I don't…I can't do that."

Fenrir stared down at him. "If you spurn me I won't force you. Werewolves are rough but you're my mate and you can say no to me. I'd advise you not to behave challengingly but you won't be _raped _by me. I won't promise the wolf won't get riled up – it's in its nature to want to breed you, but you can stop me…" He paused, leaning down so that he was resting one knee between Harry's thighs. "Just as much as you can stop me now," he murmured, their lips barely a hairsbreadth apart.

Harry exhaled shakily and nodded. _Merlin this is ridiculous,_ he thought, shaking his head and trying to get a grip on his anxiety. He had faced down basilisks, dragons and dementors and yet he was afraid of the man who had been his…his _lover_ for the last month? It was so stupid he wanted to slap himself.

"It's alright to be a bit afraid," Fenrir murmured, drawing Harry back from his self-effacing reverie. "I'd think you were stupid if you weren't. It'll be fine, trust me."

Harry stared at him, those last two words striking something odd inside him. "Why can I handle everything else and charge in head first without a thought? This isn't… I've been afraid before but I've never frozen up like this."

"It's because this is something you can't fight," Fenrir explained, with the tone of someone who had explained this to countless new werewolves before. "This is who you are. It's unknown, it's bloody terrifying but you'll be fine. You'll see." A small shudder of anticipation rushed through his muscles and he straightened up with a fleeting lick to Harry's lips, his every limb tensing.

"It's coming," was the last whispering growl that left that mouth – the mouth that had worshipped Harry's body shamelessly over the last month. The mouth that then began to morph into a silvery muzzle. Harry's entire body froze where he sat transfixed with the change, feeling it sweeping through him as it turned 'Fenrir' into 'Greyback'. His instincts reared up inside him and he felt his head swim with that pleasurable, carefree mist. He closed his eyes, gasping at the sensation of weightlessness and did not open his eyes again until his flesh was humming from the moon's light.

Greyback gave a low growl of impatience in front of him. The alpha was naturally proud and so as a wolf, he was hungry for Harry's attention always. He straightened up smugly, apparently pleased when Harry looked at him.

White spots danced briefly before Harry's eyes as the den came into focus and his breathing and heartbeat slowly calmed. With a low rumbling sound in the back of his throat he moved forwards, rubbing his body along the length of Greyback's side in contentment.

The silver wolf turned his head to watch him, butting his nose against Harry's face as he came to a stop beside him. Harry reached up, running his fingers slowly across Greyback's muzzle, up to his ears and down again to stroke every inch of his glossy, silky fur. The wolf grumbled low in contentment, bowing his head so that Harry could reach more of him, his tail swaying slightly from side to side.

Harry could practically sense the wolf's thoughts. This was what Greyback's instincts had been urging him towards for so long, a mate as stubborn, defiant and strong as him, one that would revere him as he did them. Harry stroked his flanks and the thick fur of his belly and the wolf pressed into him.

They spent some time just like that. The wolf licked and nuzzled intermittently against any part of Harry he could reach, until the initial afterglow of his first transformation with a mate faded into soft warmth within them both. After some time, the silver wolf stretched. Harry watched every muscle tighten with the desire to do…_something. _His belly was full, however, which was good.

Harry walked at his alpha's side out into the valley, where the moonlight streaked across the fur coats of their pack like firelight on water. A dozen cubs of varying sizes and colours chased each other across the grass, yipping and howling playfully, while the adults lay scattered around, content and lazy with their bellies full. A large, tawny coloured wolf was patrolling the group slowly, his ears pricked and tail alert. Harry knew somehow it was Echo, he felt it, just as he knew that the grey wolf laying on her own under the willow tree was Amoux and the darker male chasing the pups was Accalia. It was odd. He felt truly one with his senses like this, with the moon bathing his skin.

Slowly, he followed his alpha to the deserted circle where they usually ate and stopped when Greyback turned to face him, his skin tingling with anticipation. Those eyes were blazing blue, rimmed with gold and Harry forgot all about Voldemort and his quest, about everything and went down on his knees. Rolling onto his back, he turned his head to the side and let out a low whine – it was his mate's turn to reacquaint himself with his body now as a wolf under their first full moon joined together.

The silver wolf stood over him, his ears pricked with interest and his tail swaying from side to side. The beast regarding him closely for a few, long moments before he bowed his head, snuffling at his face and throat. A large, long tongue slid out, lapping at his face and neck, nipping slightly at the marked side of his throat until Harry arched it to give him an uninhibited view. He reached up, caressing that silky fur encouragingly. It wasn't a sexual confrontation between them now; it was a purely platonic embrace, another binding commemoration of their union.

That long tongue lapped down his chest, marking his taut abdomen with a line of spittle. With his lower half covered by his trousers, the marking was forced to move lower. Greyback licked his feet intently until Harry squirmed, rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself up on his knees again, impatient and fidgety after the torturous tickling.

With a brief glance back to his mate, Harry flew to his feet and forward across the valley in a fluid motion, one with such speed and grace that it shocked him. His mate was pursuing him, the knowledge filled him with such feather-light bliss that he swore he was flying across the grass now, carried by the moon herself – that was, until an unfamiliar scent stopped him in his tracks.

Harry whirled around, his eyes searching the moonlit valley for the source, only to find the entrance to the labyrinth of caves nearby standing open. Humans, he could smell _humans _out in the world beyond their mountain. Just as his moon-heat inebriated mind registered what this meant, Greyback tore past him, howling in warning as he bolted into the caves and out of sight. There were intruders in their forest and the alpha was hunting them now. They would be killed!

That last thought sobered his moon-drunk mind, sent panic through him and he took a deep breath to steel himself against it, before shooting after Greyback. He pulled the gate shut with a crash on his way through. He paused only a brief moment to watch the vines begin to entangle their way across the grate and lock it shut, before bolting into the darkness. He didn't need Ghost to show him the way this time; he only had to follow the pull of the bond in the direction of Greyback.

The night air was sharp and fierce, striking him with warning ferocity as he flew out into the forest. The moon heat rushing through his veins made his frantic steps clumsy and noisy as he scrambled through the forest. The white light from above bathed him intermittently, reaching for him through the gaps in the canopy of trees above. Greyback was close by – he could _feel _him.

Suddenly, a chilling cry ripped through the air from just ahead. Harry shivered, his body hot with longing to find his mate for other purposes than his mind intended. His footfalls hastened as he struggled to hold onto his waning senses. Gasping for breath, he came skidding to a halt in a small clearing. It was illuminated by dancing firelight and filled with fireside mirth that died away into echoing silence the moment he broke into the glade.

"Hey, you alright kid?" a rough yet concerned voice called. The seven figures by the fire all rose to their feet but did not move from where they stood, evidently still wary of the semi-naked boy panting in the clearing. There were two men, two women and three children, the youngest of which only about four or so. The very subdued, rational part of Harry's mind knew they were muggleborns on the run, but his moon-induced stupor permitted only broken, hazy words to leave his lips.

"Not…safe…run… _Run_!"

The adults glanced at each other in concern, before looking back to him. "Here, son," the other man began gently, taking a few steps towards him. "Wolves don't come near the firelight and anyway we have magic to protect us." He spoke slowly, as if to a much younger child and if Harry had been coherent he might've realised how mad he looked running through the forest at night as he was.

Harry shook his head frantically, whining low in his throat with desperation and rising panic. His alpha was close, he could _feel _it. "No… run… He's coming!"

"Hey," the soothing voice of one of the women cooed through the eerie silence and she hastened towards him, gripping him carefully by the shoulders. "Goodness, this boy is burning up. Ray, baby?" she said, turning to one of the men, "He's not well – and so thin, get me a blanket for him?"

Harry shook his head even harder, trying to push her away. "No…he'll kill…_kill you. _Run!" he panted, but the woman held onto him brushing his sweaty hair from his forehead gently, not noticing his scar below the tangled mess.

"Ssshh," she tried to soothe him, before glancing back to her husband again. "He's delirious with the fever, help me bring him closer to the fire and–" Her words were cut short by a blood-chilling howl that trailed off into a venomous snarl. Every head in that clearing snapped to the side where a bear-sized silver wolf was emerging from the shadows, his eyes burning gold in the darkness. A constant, warning growl was emanating from his throat, his crisp white teeth bared and gleaming.

Harry looked at each of the terrified faces. The woman by the fire clasped all three children to her, the men stared at the beast, unsure of what to do and the woman who still had hold of Harry instinctively put herself between him and the wolf. It sent a spark of déjà vu somewhere deep down in Harry, something that made the overwhelming urge to protect these people completely desecrate any other instinct running through his veins.

Suddenly, one of the men made a sudden movement to bring his wife back to his side and it was enough to make Greyback start forward. Harry gave a shrill whine that cut through the clearing and stilled the big wolf in his attack. His gaping jaws were inches from the man that he had thrown to the floor.

Everyone else in the clearing froze too as Harry threw himself onto all fours, struggling out of his trousers and edging his way toward the wolf. The humans watched on in a mixture of horror and shock. "He won't hurt me," Harry managed out, his voice raspy, "but he'll kill you. Run. Save children! Go!" When Greyback growled uneasily again, Harry whined lower, sliding onto his belly in the grass and exposing his throat to those pearly white teeth.

After a moment, the wolf moved away from the fallen man, who shimmied back towards his family. Harry hummed, swaying slightly to keep the beast's focus on him as the humans started to move uncertainly towards the trees.

"We can't just leave him!" The woman who had been closest to Harry gasped, but her husband was pulling at her, dragging her after her children and the other couple while the beast was occupied with Harry.

"He's with it or something love, now come!" he hissed. The sound made Greyback restless and Harry let out a sharp yip this time to distract him, his mind still only partially focussed, instinct driving his actions more than anything else. When four paws came into his vision either side of his head, Harry rolled up slightly, brushing insistently against Greyback's side until he heard the wolf give a rumbling growl in response. The humans were gone but not out of danger. They were still close. Greyback's attention was solely on Harry now, with the moon gleaming down at them as if hungry for a show.

Just when relief began to ripple through him, he felt Greyback's interest pique. The heat that had been radiating from him suddenly intensified and hit Harry with such force that he rolled onto his back. When he stared up at the sky this time his view was shadowed by Greyback's massive body that now stood directly over him. Those legs caged him in and his muzzle lowered to his throat where Greyback sniffed enthusiastically. Harry turned his head to give him better access, but uneasiness spread through him as he did so. Something was different this time. He'd felt Greyback aroused in this form before when he nuzzled him but this time there was…more purpose. That long, thick tongue lapped at his throat decisively, sending little tingles through his pores like an electric current running from his head to his curling toes.

Above him, Greyback growled in that way that made his mind fog with bliss – he answered with a slow whine, but this time when he rolled his head a little further, he saw something that made him still. Greyback was erect. Harry's breath caught in fear.

Suddenly he was struggling. He let out a cry of distress and kicked out with his feet. He shoved hard at Greyback's chest and squirmed when the last of the material covering his body was shredded. He scrambled frantically for escape. Even completely out of it, even lost to his instincts and most deepest, darkest desires he knew he wasn't ready for this, didn't want it.

A snarl of displeasure cut through the clearing and a heavy paw pressed down on his back, hard enough to still him but not enough to hurt. A panicked growl left Harry then. Greyback leant down with a warning grumble, his fangs gripping the nape of Harry's neck just enough to make his every limb freeze. Harry's heart hammered hard against his ribcage, his breath coming out in frantic pants as he lay deathly still under the beast. It released his neck; it's hot tongue lapping down between his shoulder blades, then further down.

Harry gasped sharply when fangs and tongue caressed his spine and the small of his back with worrying softness, as if the creature was trying to soothe him. Greyback didn't like his fear or panic, Harry knew that, but when he was this aroused under the light of the moon Harry didn't think it would stop him. And the humans were still within scenting distance. What would become of them if he pushed his alpha away?

Harry winced. Even lost to his instincts he knew he didn't want this, he was still afraid and the wolf grumbled in frustration, shifting up to get into a worrying position…

"No!" Harry screamed, managing a human-sounding noise as he shoved hard at his alpha's chest. The wolf bore down on him, fangs worrying Harry's neck. Harry sank his nails hard into Greyback's chest, shame rushing through him until he swore it would choke him, even the wolf inside him howled.

It was exactly as Greyback had first said. The moon-heat and his instincts did not make him feel things he wouldn't do otherwise, only lessened his inhibitions, made him seize what he truly wanted. Even both combined could not eradicate his fear of what Greyback wanted him for. Harry had brought this all on himself, had lead the wolf on so that the humans could escape and now, with Greyback unable to comprehend the idea of half-hearted arousal…

He was aroused despite his disgust and as far as Greyback was concerned in this state, that meant he was willing.

Greyback growled again, impatient that he was not able to soothe the fear radiating from his mate. He nudged Harry's belly again until Harry moved. He was shoved onto his shoulders and chest, his arse high in the air. Harry gasped into his arms, his head spinning with conflicting sensations. The full moon's light was hot and overwhelming now, illuminating Harry's pale skin and the wolf's silver fur so that both glistened in the darkness. The entire scene was like that of an ethereal dream now but when the wolf shifted, his massive body completely covering Harry's, Harry gave a very real, human scream.

*******CENSORED. FOR FULL SCENE PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE*****

* * *

Unyielding sunlight burned Harry's eyelids, making him squint as he was rudely awoken by it. Throbbing pain coursed through his innards, his belly, his arse and all down his thighs. Even his ribs ached. He groaned softly and his lashes fluttered, bringing a clearing filled with morning mist into view. Harry winced at the pain lancing through him and squirmed out from beneath the sweltering heat and weight covering him.

With a grunt he turned, balanced on his heels and saw the source of the heat that had been smothering him. Fenrir lay, quite human and naked, apparently undisturbed despite Harry having wriggled out from under him. His breath was low and even with sleep still and it took Harry a moment to realise why they were both beyond the protection of the mountain village. When it flooded back to him, he felt his aching insides tighten with revulsion.

Looking down at himself, he saw his torso, his sides and hips bruised and thighs painted with claw-marks. His insides felt battered and his arse burned. He reached back tentatively to touch his abused ring, nausea flooding through him as he felt a thick layer of dried semen between his cheeks and the backs of his thighs. He remembered then and his wide eyes fixed on Fenrir's sleeping form. He remembered the beast last night as it took him. He remembered its insatiable hunger but when he recalled his own pleasure and spied a splash of dried come on his belly that was unmistakeably his own, his body jerked forwards and he vomited bile up onto the grass.

What had he become?

* * *

With a long stretch, Fenrir's body tugged him awake. He rolled onto his back as he opened his eyes and stared up at the slowly clearing morning mist with the sun peaking through. The world was quiet around him and Fenrir inhaled deeply, his body ripe with the scent of him and his mate. A frown creased his brow however, when he sensed that the smell of his mate was not as fresh as it should have been.

Rising quickly, Fenrir glanced around to find himself alone in the glade. Only the smell of Harry's dried blood and lubrication on his body betrayed the fact that he'd been here at all. Fenrir blinked once, _twice_ as he dragged back the memory of the night before. He'd taken Harry as a wolf and though he remembered smelling arousal, he'd smelt fear as well.

"Shit," he cursed, stumbling to his feet. If he knew Harry, his reaction to recalling last night would not be good. Inhaling the air, he smelt Harry's scent on a passing breeze. He had gotten quite far while he had slept – he had to find him. No sooner had his muscles bunched to move, however than a handful of bodies crashed into the clearing from downwind.

"Alpha!" Echo declared, Marrok and three others alongside him, all panting heavily, all as naked as the day they were born. "Weylyn, he left the gate open last night – Harry shut it after he followed you to stop the rest of us but we could smell the humans and…" He lost his voice here, staring from Fenrir to the clearing, as if the evidence of what happened last night were visible on the grass. "Alpha, you know what this means for Harry," he said, his voice low and cautious, filled with apprehension.

Fenrir growled in frustration, his hands clenching into fists. _Just _as he felt as if he was making ground with Harry. He'd never lost control so spectacularly before, why now? Why with Harry?! He gritted his teeth, grinding them tightly together until his gums throbbed with pain. Harry was his mate, _that _was why. All the rules didn't apply. All the usual instincts, every pull of his desires were increased tenfold with him to the point where nothing made sense anymore.

"You smelt him last night, Echo," Fenrir murmured darkly, "he was terrified and I was too turned on by his display to save the humans to pay any attention to it." He snarled through clenched teeth. He'd thought he'd had more control over himself than this. He'd told Harry that Harry would be able to refuse him. Under any other circumstances he was sure that was true – but he hadn't anticipated Harry leading him on to save the humans. Once his passions had been stirred, he'd been unable to beat them back. Harry had sacrificed his own wishes to save the humans. All because of Weylyn.

_I'll kill him, _he thought.

"He reeks of loathing and self-disgust right now. It's as potent as smoke. He didn't want me to take him as wolf – the idea was repugnant to him!"

Echo glanced to Marrok, seeing the omega's face furrowed with concern. He had a soft spot for Harry, it was widely known and the large black man inhaled deeply before chancing speech. "Alpha, it's more serious than that – the significance of your mating with him last night under the light of the full moon…" He licked his dry lips as he met the Fenrir's eyes. "You can already smell it on his scent. It's a slight change but it's there. He's breeding."

Fenrir stopped and his head jerked up to the sky where the sun was slowly rising, as if the invisible moon could answer his plight. Harry would be furious – no worse he would…

"_I'll never want to carry _anything_ of yours inside me…"_

"_I'll kill whatever spawn you put in me the second your back is turned!"_

Oh no.

"I have to get to him. You find Weylyn, I'll kill the bastard for this," Fenrir snarled. The image of crunching the traitor's neck under his fangs chased back his temper a fraction – just enough to give him control again. He could feel the rage emanating from his body like heat from a fire. But he needed to find Harry before he did something unforgiveable.

"Alpha, there are strangers in our forest," Echo said quickly as if he knew any moment he would take off in the direct of his mate's misery. "Werewolves not of the pack – _rogues_, Alpha, and lots of them."

Fenrir stared at him, sniffing the air, frustrated. He needed to get to Harry, not waste time with these disrespectful mongrels! He had sensed something on the air beyond Harry, right at the very edge of the forest but his focus had been on his mate over anything else. Another thing that only Harry could do; blind him to potential danger. The boy filled his every thought and sensation until there was nothing else left. Was that what being mated was supposed to be like? Or was it just the boy? Did he have some hidden ability to drive those around him mad with the need to care for him?

He didn't have the time to ponder that now. Harry was downwind of the invaders now but if they caught a whiff of him – an unprotected breeding sub…

"The den will be safe – rogues cannot get in without one of us. Are there others out here with you?" Fenrir asked, his voice brisk and sharp.

Echo nodded. "Six more are close behind, Alpha. When we said that we were heading out to find you both no one wanted to stay behind." Echo smiled, an oddly soothing expression in the chaos that was rapidly unfolding. "The pack is not short of those who care for you, Alpha, or for Harry. They adore him." A treasure of the pack, as all those who carried the recessive gene were meant to be – _precious_.

"As they should," Fenrir grunted, glancing towards the direction he could smell Harry in. Had he already done the unthinkable? He could not smell any blood but…

"Get the other six and head the rogues off if you can. Don't fight, just occupy them until I can get Harry back to the den. He…he can't be alone right now," he muttered, not wanting to betray what he suspected they already knew. His mate would be less than happy if he realised what their mating under the full moon meant. With any luck, he would have forgotten in the rush of events as Fenrir had.

"_I told you, I'd never allow anything of yours to grow inside me."_

Suddenly, Fenrir felt a cold nudge against his curled fist and glanced down to see Ghost butting his fingers, staring up at him as if asking him where Harry was. "We'll find him," Fenrir said, before looking to his second in command once more. "Get the others, keep the intruders busy. I think I know what they want and I don't want them to see Harry, not so soon after last night." He didn't think Harry would be able to bear being swamped with the smell of raging dominant pheromones, especially so soon after the full moon. Emotions were still running high.

Echo nodded once and before he and the others had finished turning to do his bidding, Fenrir had spun on his heel and lurched forward, his body morphing into his wolf's shape as he ran. Ghost stayed close at his side, keeping up with him as he sped into the trees, following Harry's distress. Harry was quite a way away, but not yet out of reach of him – there was no danger from the Dark Lord yet.

The wind rushed through his fur. It stung his eyes, carrying great waves of his mate's suffering to him until he was forced to hold his breath rather than inhale another whiff of it. He couldn't bear it, it was rendering him into a pathetic mess, a pup who couldn't see anything else, couldn't control himself. He never had any control when it came to Harry, he should've realised that. What happened between them last night was pleasurable for him, natural to him even, but the fact that it was the one thing that terrified Harry most made bile rise in his throat. He'd hurt his mate, _raped _his mate, no matter how he looked at it.

He, the most revered werewolf in the country had fallen prey to his own instincts and perhaps ruined everything. He grit his teeth tightly, his fangs biting into his gums and he snarled in fury at himself, at the situation. If Harry had understood, had had chance to accept their ways and _wanted _what had happened last night, _wanted _the cub that now grew inside him it would be different. Why couldn't they be different?

_Why is everything so fucked?! _He roared as he sped through the trees, approaching downwind so as not to scare off his mate before he even got there. He did not expect Harry's reaction to the sight of him after last night to be anything but bad – he only hoped it was not too late to repair that. He grunted. He _would _repair it. From the second he'd mated with the boy he'd known he would do anything to win him, utterly, completely. He would fix this mess he'd made by losing control of himself. He only hoped it was in time to save the unborn life growing in the boy's belly.

"_I'll kill whatever spawn you put in me the second your back is turned!"_

The words haunted him as he flew through the forest. He'd mocked the very words originally, but after all that had happened, would Harry really be capable of such a thing? Had he betrayed his mate so badly? His bones themselves ached at the notion. He'd shamed his kind, acted exactly as the rogues he so despised would have acted. Far from filling him with pride as the notion of filling his mate's belly successfully on the first night _should_ have done, he felt quite sick.

He was no better than the bastards that would have shared Harry around despite his wishes. He was not fit to be alpha, or to have the honour of being mated to one such as Harry. Luckily, he was both stubborn and selfish enough that neither slowed his steps. He would not wallow in pity and shame. He would bite it back with ravenous fangs, he would rise above it and _earn _his place as alpha, as alpha _mate_ once more. He wouldn't just roll over and accept defeat and shame like a sad little dog. He had more honour than that, more pride.

Running still, he felt himself growing nearer. Harry was in one place, hadn't sensed him yet. Ghost had managed to keep up. They were both flying through the trees, towards the sound of rushing water, towards the waterfall he and Harry had visited before. Only this time they were approaching it from the other side, running up hill to the waterfall's top. Fenrir ran faster as he realised this. It was not a good sign.

Whatever happened, he would do what was necessary by both his pack and his mate; it wasn't in him to be mawkish or self-pitying. Even when his parents had died it hadn't. He always dealt with misery and misfortune by clenching his teeth and pushing through, coming out the other side bloodied and wounded but stronger than before.

_~To Be Continued..._


	11. Enceinte

.: Chapter Eleven :.

Enceinte

Skidding to a halt at the edge of the trees, Fenrir forced his body back to its mortal shape, knowing Harry would not appreciate the sight of his wolf right now. Slowly edged out into the sunlight. Ghost walked just ahead of him, his ears pricked and his tail wagging at the sight of Harry alive. The young man was standing waist-deep in the pool at the top of the slow-running waterfall, facing outwards across the forest as if he hadn't noticed their presence.

But Fenrir could _sense_ that Harry knew they were there now, it was visible from the way his body tensed. He was completely naked in the glistening water and the bright golden light of the morning sun illuminated his pale, sun-touched skin. Every bruise and scrape was highlighted, painfully dark against his flesh. Harry's body was covered with them and the mating mark on his throat was an inflamed pink, stark against the honey-hued column of his throat.

Stepping forward slowly so that he was on the bank, Fenrir waited for Harry to turn. He was lost for what to say to end the ripples of pain and self-loathing that reached out across to him from where Harry stood. He could see the cold bringing Harry's skin up in goosebumps, causing a shiver to run down his body and this was what enabled Fenrir to find his words.

"Ghost, run back to the den and fetch his fur," he muttered. The visibly anxious wolf offered a final glance to Harry (who had still not turned) before bolting off into the trees to obey his alpha's command. This left the pair quite alone in the brutal morning breeze. Harry's hair stuck up in all directions, damp to suggest he'd submerged himself in the water earlier, as if to wash Fenrir off of him. It had failed. A claiming that complete went further than the surface of the skin and though Fenrir understood Harry's desire to wash it away, the notion still made his lips curl back with the tiniest of frustrated snarls.

The sound made Harry whirl in the water to face him. His eyes were not those that Fenrir had grown used to in the last few weeks. The warmth and desire had all-but vanished. Fear and uncertainty bloomed there like a fire slowly coaxed to life by breath. Fenrir inhaled deeply to put off the next time he would have to inhale Harry's misery for as long as possible, before chancing speech.

"Pet, last night–"

"_Don't_ call me pet, I'm not your pet, not your bitch," Harry murmured, his voice coarse and heated despite its low volume. It was a warning growl of a bitch who was carrying. Fenrir watched him carefully, at a loss for how he could win back the closeness they had found before last night. He started to move forward, but Harry took a step back in response, towards the lip of the waterfall.

"Harry," he began again, still moving forward slowly. Coddling, gentleness, comfort were not things he knew how to give. It was foreign to him. But he had to try. "I never thought that I could hurt you in that form, or else I'd never–"

"You didn't hurt me," Harry muttered, avoiding Fenrir's eyes. "Not really, that's the problem…" He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought and Fenrir took the opportunity to take a few extra steps closer, the water lapping at his knees now. "I know if I'd outright refused you wouldn't have…_done that. _I gave you the signs that I…that I wanted it. I know I've got no one to blame but myself, alright?" His tone was defensive, but Fenrir had finally spanned the gap between them and he snarled at Harry's words, gripping him by his shoulders and shaking him slightly.

"You did it to stop me from killing those humans. _I'm_ the one who should've been able to stop. I was weak but I'll be stronger and I'll start by killing the fucker who left the gate open in the first place." He squeezed Harry's shoulders tightly. "They're to blame for what happened, they manipulated our instincts – don't you dare stick yourself with the blame for getting raped!"

The words tasted like poison in his mouth. He'd defiled his own mate. His jaw tensed, his fangs biting into his gums until he tasted blood again. He really could not wait to kill someone and unleash his barely contained fury.

Abruptly, Harry shook off his hands as if they had stung him, glaring at him defiantly. "I wasn't raped," he snapped. "You're my – well you can't rape me if we're–"

Fenrir grunted in disgust. "Rape with someone who doesn't want it is rape, whether they're mated or not," he snapped. "Some prick helped me to… They fucked this up and I won't forgive it." He ground his teeth together, but the uncertain look on Harry's face still did not dwindle. Fenrir frowned, reaching forward slowly. When Harry flinched away again, Fenrir paused. His hand slid slowly through the air parallel to Harry's torso, as if he were caressing it, coming to rest just above the water that lapped at that flat stomach. The place where his cub was growing.

"I'll fix this, pet, let me fix it." The uncharacteristic sincerity, the torture in his voice stunned Harry into speechlessness. He stared, his lips slightly parted at the werewolf who stood before him. The severe, brutal, most terrifying beast in the country was towering over him and yet looked…_vulnerable_ somehow. Harry didn't know what to do, didn't know how he felt. He took a small, staggering step back and his mouth moved with the beginnings of speech. Before any words left him, Fenrir turned abruptly, facing the trees, an arm stretched out as if to shield Harry from view.

"What is it?" Harry asked, sniffing the air. He couldn't smell a thing, thanks to the wind carrying from the other direction, but if he stayed perfectly still in the water he could hear something_. _The steps approaching were cautious and calculated but he could hear them, as well as low breathing and eager heartbeats, the latter a fraction of a pace too quick to be human. "Werewolves?" he muttered.

Fenrir gave a short nod. "And not ours. You still have the scent of heat clinging to you from yesterday. Stay back, alright?"

Harry glared up at him, his lips poised to spit out a sharp retort, but once again, his words were lost as the invaders broke the line of the trees. They were here. Instinctively, Harry took a sharp intake of breath and shifted a fraction more behind Fenrir. He didn't know what it was or what was happening, all he knew for certain was that he had to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. He needed his pack, his alpha to protect him. There were about half a dozen of them that seemed to gather behind two men; one tall and dark-skinned, bulky and bearded like Fenrir, the other sun-kissed with hair as dark as blood. Conall.

They were all watching Harry closely, eyes intense and swimming with thoughts Harry preferred not to dwell on. He kept his eyes subtly averted, focussing on being as small as possible, even though he knew they had _more _than noticed him. He knew he was subject of their stares and the whispers of the werewolves at the rear of the group. He was the reason that they were here.

There was a long, foreboding silence that stretched between them, until eventually, the dark-skinned man's coarse, heavy voice broke it. "So it seems that the alpha has endeavoured to mark you, to claim you as much as possible before we had a chance to dispute his claim." He surveyed Harry with dark eyes, evidently taking in every love bite, every scrape and bruise. His nostrils flared and Harry flushed darkly. He knew that he was inhaling the scent of sex that still clung to him despite his soak in the water.

"You've had a long journey for nothing," Fenrir snarled darkly, his fingers curling tight into a fist.

Harry remained still. He looked from Fenrir to the intruders, listening to them discuss him as if he were property with no choice in this matter at all. Except he knew that it _was _his choice; Fenrir had told him so at the start. _And I chose Fenrir, whether I was in my right mind or not, _he thought. _Why are they contesting it if I made the decision? _

"You're not the one to judge that," Conall interjected coolly. "And you should know we're not alone."

"Neither is he," a voice stated from the shadows of the trees, where Echo, Marrok, Ulric and nine others now stepped into view, moving quickly to stand on the pool's edge, a few feet behind Fenrir. Ghost was among them. Harry gave the interlopers a final glance before wading through the water to him, taking the fur cloak that was draped over Ghost's back and partly gripped in his mouth. With hostility ripe in the air, he didn't particularly fancy standing there naked any longer than he had to.

Dignity covered, he turned back to them to find that they had followed his every movement. With a flush, he pulled the cloak tighter around his bare, bruised skin. With some distance between him and the enemy now, he felt his irritation surge above his curious, instinctive need to make himself invisible. "Stop staring at me as if I'm some rare treat you all can't wait to get your grubby hands on," he snapped. Something in his throat tightened at the way the dark man beside Conall smiled forebodingly at his words. Harry raised his chin in defiance, glaring at him and his companions with unveiled contempt.

"It seems to me that you all took it upon yourselves to march up here to challenge Fenrir's right to 'keep' me or something," he snarled, "but I'm not an animal to be kept. I'm not a possession – if I choose to be here it's not for you to challenge anything!"

Conall laughed brutally. "So your tamed alpha would have you believe. Times have changed, pet – humans have hunted our species to the point where there are but a few packs and rogues scattered throughout the country. There are no longer enough breeding subs to allow you such a luxury as _choice_."

Fenrir snarled. "The old ways state that the sub chooses and he chose me!" He roared. Harry watched the muscles in Fenrir's back tense and ripple as if he were verging on transformation. The notion made Harry feel a bit queasy; he wasn't sure he could face Fenrir the wolf right now.

"The old ways were a extravagance of the past, Greyback," the black man said, his coarse voice rendering the birds in the trees to silence. He stepped forward slightly and Harry felt everyone around him tense, ready for a fight. This man was dangerous, he could _feel _it in the way those amber eyes looked on him and it made him shudder with unease.

"There have been fewer and fewer of _his _kind discovered since the majority were culled all those years ago by the Ministry," he continued, gesturing to Harry dismissively. "To honour one boy's wishes for a choice of partner, and yours of monogamy will mean a greater leap towards the extinction of full-blooded born wolves. Those turned are never as strong or live as long as us. But besides that, are we not all entitled to have and raise young of our own rather than resort to stealing others'?"

Harry frowned, his lips parting on the verge of speech, but Echo's hand on his shoulder stilled him – not only because the first touch of another since last night just felt strange somehow. He swallowed his words at the insistent contact. Echo was warning him to keep quiet, but why with such urgency?

Suddenly the dark man turned to Harry, his dark amber eyes devouring him. "Come closer," he breathed. Harry scowled. If this bastard was going to challenge him he was not going to lie down and play the good little puppy. He couldn't deny any longer that he was Fenrir's sub, his mate and that maybe part of him even wanted that, but he most certainly wasn't the bitch of every werewolf that decided to seek him out.

Shrugging off Echo's grip, he stepped forward.

"Harry stay where you are!" Fenrir snapped without facing him. Harry flinched at the roughness of his voice but continued, his chin still turned up slightly in rebellion.

"I'm not afraid of him," he replied, coming to a halt at Fenrir's side, his eyes trained ahead of him.

"You say so, sweet one but I can smell the truth," the dark man murmured, his smile never fading. "I am Radulf and I am sorry we did not cross paths sooner, we could have avoided a situation like this. But we know of your life, Harry Potter, there are few that don't – even out in the wilderness. You of all people have compassion enough to see, we all deserve children of our own, don't we? To fill a void that biting another can never fulfil?"

Harry stared at him emotionlessly, despite the inner battle rumbling inside him. _Get back, _it hissed at him. _Show him your belly, your throat – show them all submission!_ He shook his head as if to free himself of those thoughts, pushing through and beyond the overwhelming desire to bow himself at their feet. "My guardians never loved me like my real parents, but there is another family that has all-but adopted me, the way you adopt others into your packs. They care for me like I'm their own. I don't think a family has to be made from bonds of blood. But I s'pose I understand your feelings and instincts."

He felt Fenrir turn his head slightly to stare at him, radiating confusion. Harry did not look away from Radulf and Conall, who seemed to share a look at Harry's words.

"If you understand, then how can you deny us what you are so willing to provide Greyback?" Radulf asked, as if it were a much simpler matter they were discussing.

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I said I understood, that doesn't mean I'm going to let you all take turns in using me like some…some litter whore," he said in disbelief.

"Why not?" Conall demanded, "it's what you were made for."

"Bullshit it is," Fenrir growled venomously, his teeth bared. "He was born to the freedom to choose the mate he wants. Not be passed around every horny mutt to churn out cubs like a machine!"

Radulf made a clucking sound with his tongue. "Of course not, we're not suggesting he carry a litter for every born werewolf that passes – that would be impossible. We have spent the last few weeks wisely, Greyback."

Fenrir shifted his body to stand between Harry and them a little more effectively. But Harry could still see them and he didn't think Fenrir's dominance display was going to scare them away this time, not like it had back when they'd run into Conall and his band of outcasts in the forest.

"What do you mean?" Fenrir asked dangerously.

Conall spoke this time, seemingly smug about his answer. "Of course when you killed my brother for trying to have his turn with the sub I felt it my duty to pay a visit to every pack and settlement of rogues known to us. The strongest, the best of each battled for their chance to come here today and here we are. We fought to prove our worth, to narrow down the sub's list of suitors–"

"Harry, my name is Harry not _breeder _or _sub. _Do you seriously think you've been _considerate? _You're still assuming I'm willing to be fucked and impregnated by the lot of you!" Harry declared indignantly, staring at them all in shock. And he'd thought the wizarding and muggle worlds were full of bigots and power-hungry control-freaks.

Conall tilted his head slightly to look him up and down before dignifying his outburst with a response. "You don't have a choice. We've been generous enough with you and we're willing to overlook Greyback's transgressions if you all comply."

"What _'transgressions' _you stinking whippet?" Fenrir spat ferociously. "He's my mate, _mine _and _you _all think you have the authority to share him around?!" He was thunderous and Harry felt something in his stomach churn at the feel of his mate's anger rushing through him. He felt light-headed and the need to make himself small and invisible swelled again.

"That is precisely it," Radulf said coolly. "You claim that he chose you, yet I hear you made sure to keep him hidden away until it was too late for anyone to challenge that claim, to compete with it. If given a fair chance, Harry here might have chosen any of us." His golden gaze lingered on Harry again, alight with sinful fire that made Harry feel quite ill, even dizzier than before.

"Like hell," he grumbled, trying to keep a hold of what dignity he had left and his balance at the same time. "I'd never bind myself to anyone who treats me like what I want doesn't matter."

"We're not wishing to mate with him," Radulf continued as if Harry hadn't spoken at all, looking back to Fenrir once more. "Only to have the opportunity that all of us want with every fibre of our being. A litter for each of us here, the best of us and then you can keep him all to yourself."

"Fuck you!" Harry roared, his own fury coursing through him now, driving him forward. It pulsed like lava, like a thousand angry wasps in his veins until he was standing in front of Conall, Radulf and the others, visibly seething. He ignored the cries from his pack mates and glared hotly at the werewolves before him. He wasn't afraid now, only angry – unbelievably angry at the insult of their very purpose here.

"It'll be a bloody cold day in hell before I roll over and present my arse to any of you – to _anyone _besides who I choose. I'm not a whore and I'm not a prize bitch to churn out _litters _with the best studs that stroll by to suit you all. I don't care if your entire _species_ dies out. I don't care if you offer me the universe! I'm not a body to be sold or even threatened into compliance. I won't give you what you want so _leave_!"

An elongated moment of tense silence stretched out towards infinity. The forest was deathly quite behind them; the only sound Harry could make out was the ever-flowing waterfall and his own anger thudding furiously in his ears in time with his pulse. How dare they? How could they think this was acceptable? Just because he was probably the only known _breeder _in the country, because of what wizards had done out of fear all those years ago?

_Sins of the father, _he thought distantly as he stood there, waiting for anyone to speak or move, to break the stillness they had fallen into. His ancestors, his species had desecrated theirs, had killed hundreds of breeding subs and now he was paying the price. Why was he the only one that saw that werewolves, vampires, giants, wizards, and muggles, all of them were all the bloody same as each other? Each just as capable of violence and cruelty as the other.

Suddenly, Conall reached out, his arm flying forwards with the force and speed of a whiplash. He wrapped his fingers around Harry's throat, drawing him forwards. Harry choked, his hands shooting up to claw at Conall's fingers. The man's nose was scant centimetres from his own and the proximity, the smell of his lust made Harry's instincts soar up and seize control of him again.

Harry turned his head to the side limply. He let it fall, let his entire body go limp in that grasp so that he would have slumped on the floor if Conall released him. Behind him he could hear Fenrir snarling, hear his pack moving forward but he couldn't _see _anything beyond the threat in front of him and he whined slowly, deep in his throat. He had to survive, he had to escape – he had to be submissive to do both of those. He had to live.

_Why again was that?_

"See how contrite a real male can make you?" Conall panted, grinning darkly and inhaling Harry's fear hungrily. It made his arousal spike and Harry whined again, louder this time when Conall's other unoccupied hand, reached out to slip between the folds of Harry's fur cloak. Long claws scraped over his churning stomach – _just _hard enough to bring four fresh lines of blood from shallow cuts. "If you comply we'll let you keep the cub you carry, let you bear Greyback his mongrel before we take our turns."

Harry's eyes widened.

Conall chuckled, leaning in closer still. "These things are so delicate, easily terminated – you should be careful if you want to keep it–"

"_It_?" Harry repeated, his voice a choked gasp. A whisper of horror and disbelief. The entire world stopped, halting in time and space before veering into slow motion at Conall's low, cruel laugh.

"Poor little one, didn't your pet alpha tell you? He's filled your belly up nicely in such a short amount of time," the auburn haired man panted.

Harry's entire body tensed as he recalled the horrors of last night, not for the first time since he had awoken but with new eyes now, seeing it for what it meant at last. He screamed, lashing out with every ounce of strength in him, slamming his fist hard into Conall's throat. The wolf spluttered, releasing him instinctually. Harry staggered back, panting for breath and rubbing unconsciously at his neck where finger-shaped marks burned angrily into his skin.

"Liar!" Harry screamed. "You fucking liar!" His eyes shot briefly to Fenrir, but did not linger there for long. He glared at Conall as the wolf chuckled again, the sound ragged and hoarse from the blow to his throat.

"Ask one of Greyback's lap dogs if you won't believe the truth from my lips, but I can smell that you're carrying from here!" Conall rounded on Fenrir then, his jaw set with anger, lust and animal frustration all at once. "And we can't promise whatever is inside him won't be a casualty if you force us to fight for what is rightfully ours."

"You've got no rights at all, none of you, not to my mate," Fenrir growled darkly. He shot forwards so that he was between them and Harry again, who remained frozen and breathing heavily, not looking at anyone now.

Radulf eyed him carefully. "We will tear your little pack to shreds if need be, Greyback, ruin everything your parents and you have worked so hard to protect." He paused as if for dramatic effect and the ominous look in his eyes left nothing to the imagination. "We will kill every last one of them. This will be much easier on everyone if you just comply.

Harry glanced up at Fenrir's back from beneath his fringe. He knew Fenrir's possessiveness well enough to trust that he wouldn't give him over, but still a part of him twisted inside at the thought that really, despite what he himself wanted, Fenrir was the only thing standing between him and the enemy. He had to rely on Fenrir to look after him and he didn't like it – loathed the idea, especially after last night.

"The boy will be happy to protect the pack, Alpha," Ulric said, speaking for the first time since he had stepped into the clearing with the others. The contempt in his voice was poorly concealed. "Let him give them a litter each and we can all walk away from this–"

"Don't make me remind you of your place," Greyback snarled, "if you challenge me again you'll be out on your arse with the rest of these savages." He focused on the interlopers again for the final time. "I'll fight you and I'll kill _you all_, make no mistake. He's ours and you're not taking him anywhere." At this, Marrok shifted forwards a fraction and the large black man wrapped his fingers slowly, subtly around Harry's wrist.

Harry flinched at only the second touch of another person since last night, but on seeing the anxious look in the man's eyes, he allowed himself to be urged back slowly to stand between him and Echo. Marrok's hand never left his arm. In any other situation Harry might have flushed, remembering Echo and Fenrir joking about Marrok being sweet on him in a boyish crush sort of way. But his mind was not able to consider light-hearted matters at the moment.

"Get off my territory," Fenrir added darkly, "while you still have legs to carry you."

"Rumour has it that your new mate has made you go soft, Greyback," Radulf added airily, as if Fenrir hadn't spoken. "Perhaps your bark has grown worse than your bite?"

"Get out of my territory now or you'll find out first hand," Fenrir snarled, every hair on his arms and chest standing on end, his knuckles cracking threateningly as the wolf swelled within, about to break the surface. He and Radulf held each other's gazes for a long moment before Fenrir smirked indifferently. "Conall has rounded you all up and used your instincts against you to make you fight his battle, you're all just too stupid to see it. I just hope you're not stupid enough to die for it.

Then it happened.

With a roar Radulf threw himself into the air his clothes and skin tearing, fur erupting from his growing limbs. He landed a jet-black wolf on all fours, baring his teeth with a great snarl before bolting towards Fenrir. It was the signal they'd all been waiting for.

Harry felt an almost unbearable tugging in his skin, a bone deep ache as everybody around him changed at once. They flew forwards, morphing into grizzly canines that launched into a frenzied battle of teeth, fur and claws – the enemy against his pack. The sight of Fenrir's glossy silver fur made his entire body seize up and he blanched, stumbling back a few steps, straight into a tundra wolf with black fur mottled by a dusting of dark brown across his face and belly.

Marrok's dark eyes looked down at him from that face and Harry stilled, uncertain. The great wolf bent his neck until his head was level with Harry's, no longer towering over him and turned to show his throat. Submission, it was such an odd sight after last night and in the midst of all this chaos but it made Harry's anxiety lessen a fraction. He didn't want Harry to be afraid of him, it seemed, for this was his last assurance, accented by a small wag of his tail before he moved himself in front of Harry – he and Ghost silently volunteering as protectors as the war waged around them.

Fenrir gave a great bellowing roar, throwing his weight into Radulf and sending him sprawling across the ground. The enemy lunged, his jaws snapping shut around thin air where Fenrir's throat had been a moment before. At the same time Echo threw a red wolf into the dirt, his fangs vanishing into his throat with a sickening burst of blood.

The metallic tang on the air made Harry's stomach lurch forebodingly. Was it really true? Was there really a life inside of him? Was that why he felt so…hypersensitive, so desperate not to be seen? It was impossible. It couldn't be true – it just _couldn't_! His innards clenched at the sound of cracking bones and cartilage, at the sound of his pack mates (who he'd grown so close to in the last few weeks) fighting for him. That thought was almost enough to distract him from the thought most potent in his mind – almost. What was he going to do about whatever was inside him?

Suddenly a sharp snarl ripped him back to the present. He jumped as he saw a grey wolf bolting towards him. Marrok growled, charging in to meet him, the force of their collision sending them both barrelling backwards in a tangle of fangs and talons. Harry dodged another pair locked in battle and winced as a painful cry tore from Marrok's throat. He grit his teeth, leaping over a bloodied corpse that Echo had left on the ground and making a beeline for where Marrok was entwined with his assailant.

A great auburn coloured body slammed into Harry, knocking him back onto his arse and the wind from his lungs. He scrambled instinctively to his feet only to be shoved down again by a large paw. The appendage pressed him hard into the dirt, digging into his chest until he swore he felt his lungs begin to compress. With a final sharp, desperate gasp for air, he felt a jerk of electricity rush through him. Staring into the dark, hungry eyes above, he heard his instincts roaring in his ears with all of the ferocity of a banshee's cry.

It was evident from how crazy everyone was acting, how crazy _he_ was acting that Fenrir had put something inside him last night. As that muzzle lowered, nuzzling into the unmarked side of his neck he realised that whatever it was, however it came to be there, it was a _life_. One that couldn't defend itself. It was up to him to protect it, wasn't it? His instincts were like an inferno roiling inside, crashing against his insides in thick waves to get out. He'd always felt the need to protect and help others but this wasn't the same. It was bone-deep and so powerful that it made his head swim. Whatever he felt about it he had to defend it, even if he was torn to shreds in the process.

That massive paw shifted down slightly to make room for the wolf's invasive tongue to lap at his clavicle, but as it began to press down on his stomach, Harry's body flew upwards. His hands shot up, crashing so hard into the wolf's throat that it gave a choked cry, skidding back across the dirt into the battle of bodies.

Harry rolled up onto all fours. Balanced on the balls of his feet he scanned the battlefield, his heart pounding frantically in his chest. He had to protect his young, whatever he felt about it; they were already alive and depending on him – just like the rest of the world, except more helpless and more fragile… _Precious._

An animalistic screech ripped from his lips and he charged towards the crimson-haired wolf that snapped at Marrok's face, narrowly missing him. Conall leapt back in shock as Harry slammed his fist into his side. Yipping in pain, he rounded on Harry with vengeance.

As he turned, Harry was balanced on his feet again, his hands supporting him in the dirt before him. His lips were drawn back over his teeth in an animalistic snarl, but when his hands flew up, palms out, the dazzling blue light that bolted from them was very human magic. Wizard magic. An unmistakeable knock-back jinx sent Conall skidding into the pool with a force that made the water spill out onto the bank with an almighty crash.

At that moment, as Harry rose to his feet and made to pursue his attack, a roar of agony cut through the air. He whirled on his feet, the movement driven by instinct and by an ethereal ghost of pain across his ribs. He saw Fenrir staggering back, his great silver coat stained with crimson blood down one side, where Radulf's talons had torn open one of the few tender places left from the attack of the griffins.

With pride Harry watched his alpha gather himself quickly, but as Fenrir turned another wolf crashed into his injured side, the both of them rolling across the ground. It happened in but a few, fleeting seconds that flashed by Harry's eyes in slow motion. Fenrir snarled and gnashed his teeth, kicking the wolf off him with his back legs, but as he rolled back to his feet, Radulf was there, lunging for his throat.

The sound that flew from Harry's mouth was an inhuman, desperate cry that shook his every limb. It had no coherency, it clawed at his throat like a beast in pain and he froze as a clearer, but no less potent voice screamed inside his mind.

"_Confringo_!" Harry cried, his voice a booming, echoing explosion that tore across the battlefield and blasted Radulf into the air. Flame, fur, earth and bright light erupted together in an inferno that stopped everyone dead in their tracks. Harry was rattled from his frantic trance by the ground lurching beneath his feet from the blast. He blinked and suddenly he was thrown black, the world obscured by heavy, protective heat.

Harry grunted, the firm furred body wrapping tight around him and taking the brunt of the fall. They rolled and his head slammed hard into the unforgiving ground. He winced and the body above him tensed, lifting itself slowly. On opening his eyes, Harry watched the blood-splattered silver wolf warp disturbingly into Fenrir again, propped up on all fours over him and panting hard.

Blood oozed from a deep gash across the length of his face and dripped down onto Harry, who winced at the throbbing in his head and flinched at Fenrir's proximity all at once. Instinctively he rolled his head to the side to expose his throat but instead of laying flat and exposing his belly as he usually would, he drew his knees up to offer it some sort of protection. It was depending on him after all.

A coarse thumb and forefinger gripped his chin, turning his head up so that Fenrir could look at him properly. Fenrir sniffed at him tentatively. "You're hurt," he murmured gruffly, apparently oblivious to the fact that everyone else around them were recovering themselves. His azure eyes were dark, his skin hot and painted with battle wounds – bare as the day he was born.

"Get off me," Harry gasped, shoving hard at Fenrir's chest as he came back to himself and the unease he felt at being trapped under Fenrir's body again so soon. Fenrir grunted, his wounds aggravated by the hasty movement as he rose to his feet. "Is it ok?" Fenrir muttered, referring to Harry's stomach and holding his hand out to help Harry up at the same time.

Harry ignored the proffered hand and pushed himself up to his feet, wincing again at the throbbing at the back of his head. He felt a little bit dizzy and bruised but otherwise unharmed; he didn't even think there was blood. "How am I meant to know?" he replied shortly, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. Then, over Fenrir's shoulder, he caught sight of Radulf's body.

The humanoid body was splayed out at a grotesque angle; smoke actually rising from the tangle of limbs. Harry's eyes were wide with shock and horror both as the man slowly staggered upwards, his dark skin blistered and marred, his expression livid. "I'll kill you – I'll KILL YOU!" he roared, staggering towards them, blood trailing across the ground with every step. "No undisciplined runt of a sub is going to defy me, just because his mate is too lovestruck to teach him his place," he spat.

Harry bit back the urge to make himself small and invisible again, clenching his teeth hard around the instinctual reaction and standing firm at Fenrir's side.

"I'll rip that feeble seedling from your belly and then I'll pound your little arse into the ground until you realise that's your place!" Radulf crowed, his voice cracked with blood and pain. He dove forwards, reaching for Harry's throat. Fenrir gave an almighty snarl and seized his wrist, twisting him round until he had a firm grip on the man's neck. There was a grunt from Fenrir, a sickening crack and then Radulf fell to the ground, perfectly still at Fenrir's feet.

Harry took a few hesitant steps back, both out of shock at the sudden execution and of discomfort at having their enemy so close to him – dead or not. He backed into a hard body and whirled on the spot to find a scuffed up Marrok behind him. The dark-skinned man gave him an awkward yet reassuring smile. "Are you alright?" he asked and Harry nodded slowly, not really sure if he was lying or not. _Was_ he ok?

There was a long pause in the clearing, during which the assailants seemed to retreat back to the boundary of trees where they had emerged from, all watching them cautiously. Conall scowled loathingly at them all, his menacing eyes lingering over Harry for far too long. "We aren't alone, Greyback," he warned darkly, "together we all bring far more warriors to the fray than your little band of whelps. "We _will _have what is rightfully ours."

Conall glanced down at the fallen man by Fenrir's feet in revulsion. "Radulf was the one that wanted to try and reason with you, but since you have chosen the difficult path…" He paused purposefully, his gaze washing over Harry's body, covetous and hateful all at once. "You'll be seeing us again and next time there will be no mercy."

A few of Fenrir's pack (still wearing their wolf appearances) snarled, bolting forwards and driving them from the clearing, deep into the forest. "Drive them out of our territory," Fenrir said slowly to Echo, who still stood as a wolf beside him. The compact beast gave a slow nod of understanding, before flying after the others, leaving a mere handful of them remaining at the peak of the waterfall.

"Ulric, Raquelle, get rid of this scum," Fenrir growled with a gesture to Radulf's corpse, his voice low and rasping, as if he were barely keeping the rage from breaking the surface. It burned like bile rising up his throat. He wanted to pursue them, to catch them and tear their limbs away until they were useless, bloody stumps sprawled across the dirt. Something about the mere _thought _of leaving Harry's side right now just felt wrong though. He knew it was his instincts, knew he would feel this way even long after the birth, but even _knowing_ that, he couldn't fight it.

Ulric grumbled in irritation, even as he and the female wolf, the dark-haired Raquelle moved to obey. "You're going to start a bloody war," he muttered, seizing the corpse's arms while Raquelle picked up the legs. "You're going to get us all massacred for the sake of sharing out your sub's arse a little…"

Fenrir growled furiously, seizing Ulric's neck and squeezing hard until the older man's face was suffused with a warning blue tinge. "You've forgotten what our pack stands for and you've long forgotten who's in charge here, old man," he whispered warningly. "If you want to challenge my role, challenge me like a wolf or keep your mouth shut, I won't tell you again. One more fuck-up and you'll be out on your arse, is that clear?"

When Ulric nodded, Fenrir squeezed just that fraction harder before releasing him and turning to where Harry, Marrok and Ghost stood, effectively dismissing the other two to continue with their instructions. His body was still rigid, stiff with barely controlled rage and wretchedness but his eyes were warm as they caressed Harry's face. A face that was far paler than usual.

"You need some food in that belly of yours," he said when he was sure the bite had left his voice. He felt like he didn't know how to talk to Harry at that moment. He knew only that he had to fulfil the promise he had made under the moon to provide and protect. "I notice you vomited up any food you had left in you this morning–"

"That was out of disgust not illness," Harry muttered, glaring at him defiantly despite the smell of anxiety Fenrir sensed rolling off of him in pungent waves. It brought a bad taste to his mouth.

"I didn't _want _last night to happen," Fenrir began, only to have Harry cut across him sharply.

"Bollocks. You got exactly what you wanted last night."

Fenrir sneered. "You think I _enjoyed_ raping you?" he growled darkly. "After everything that's happened, you think I wanted this with anything less than your full consent?" The ungrateful little whelp.

Harry stared back at him. "All you've talked about since this all started is getting me up the duff, don't pretend you're anything less than bloody ecstatic," he grumbled.

Fenrir started towards him then, the movement making Marrok step back out of respect instinctively. The alpha seized Harry's wrist to draw him closer when the boy made to recoil. "I'm pleased in that I made life with you, that part of me grows inside of you," the wolf began, his coarse voice negating any of the softness of his words. "But I didn't want it to happen like this."

Harry flushed darkly at his words. "I never wanted this at all. I didn't want to get…to have…_this _and you can't expect me to be ok with it," Harry began roughly.

"Bullshit. The fact you've yearned for a home and family of your own, a true family is the main reason you chose me," Fenrir retorted hotly, "don't deny it."

"But I can't stay here, I've told you that and I never wanted to be…_emasculated _by being forced into…_giving birth. _I didn't want it this way!" Harry winced – probably at the distinct sound of desperation in his voice. His hands curled into such tight fists that his knuckles grew white. "It wasn't entirely your fault, but you're acting like we're this loving couple who've conceived this miracle child or something!"

With a growl of displeasure and his scent spiking with telltale hurt, Fenrir threw Harry's wrist away from him. "All born werewolves are miracles that defy our very nature," he snarled, "I wanted you, I wanted this but not this way. Are you telling me that you want to get rid of the life inside you just because that prick Weylyn left the bloody gate open?"

"I don't know what I want!" Harry roared. "All I know is I don't want to look at you right now." With that he turned to look at Marrok, who was watching their exchange carefully. "Will you take me back to the den? I want to be on my own for a while where I won't be ravaged or attacked." Harry's voice was flat and curt, but riding below that was the sound of utter exhaustion and defeat.

Marrok gave the most fleeting of cautionary glances to Fenrir before nodding slowly. "Of course," he said, his deep voice soft and smooth, filled with concern. He took a step to the side to let Harry set the pace back towards the safety of the den along with Ghost. It took some time before Fenrir calmed his temper enough to follow them without the risk of tearing something to shreds.

By the time he'd cooled his anger enough to let himself catch up with them, they were already in the caves, heading towards the gates. He could hear Ulric and Raquelle not too far behind. Further than that, back in the forest, he could also sense Echo and the others returning from seeing their enemy off of their territory – all together and in one piece, thankfully. They would not be so lucky next time.

Fenrir grit his teeth as they neared the gates. He wasn't afraid of Conall nor any of the others. He could easily defeat any of them in a battle to be alpha – or a battle for Harry that matter. But they weren't looking for a battle for position or mating rights, they were looking for a massacre. The pack was safe for now, but he knew that whether by Voldemort's hand or by these new usurpers of the old ways, their peaceful lives would change – and soon. His job was to get as many of his pack through this alive and safe, but he feared he was more preoccupied with Harry than he'd first thought.

Today, up at the waterfall's peak _he _should have been the one to chase off the enemy. No, he should have quashed them, ripped out their gullets as a warning to any one else who would dare try the same. But the thought of leaving Harry's side had made him almost nauseated. He knew that was because of the infant now growing in his belly, and the fact that Harry was sensitive to any threat now – physically. If he thought he'd been abandoned or felt overly threatened he could miscarry. That thought made him nauseated as well.

He was dragged back to the present by the sight and sound of the gates slowly unwinding and unlocking. They slid open under Marrok's touch and Harry was the first to move inside. The moment he did, Fenrir felt relief so profound sweep through him from Harry's direction that it stilled him on the threshold for a moment. That was, until he saw Weylyn being watched by Amoux and a few of the others near the wash pool. His blood began to boil again.

"Marrok, fetch some food for Harry," he began, eyeing the traitor venomously. "I need to– _Harry_!"

Harry had flown from their side with unnatural speed, bolting across the grass and slamming hard straight into Weylyn. With a feral, disembodied snarl, Harry threw him to the ground where he pounced. Weylyn cried out, everyone nearby screaming and flying back on impulse. Harry was an alpha too and instinct told them to get out of his warpath. Harry's fingers curled like hungry talons as they dug into Weylyn's flesh, seizing his throat with a rasping growl and shoving his head beneath the water of the pool.

Weylyn's body scrambled and writhed in his grasp, struggling for freedom but the tendons in Harry's arms and wrists tensed and he gripped him tighter. He lifted his head a fraction to permit him air before plunging him back under the water's surface again, utter unrestrained fury on his face. He looked like a man possessed, an animal lost to his instincts. But Fenrir knew he was very much in control of himself right now and feeling very human emotions. Fear, panic and rage; all unleashing themselves at once.

"It's all your fault!" Harry screamed, bringing the choking, spluttering man up to hear him, shaking him with every word. Fenrir could see those green eyes glowing unnaturally bright as he glared down at the man at his mercy. "You brought this on us – on _me_! I never wanted this! You caused this! I'll fucking kill you!" He shoved Weylyn under again, only to have Fenrir seize him by the arms and drag him bodily from his victim.

"Get off me Greyback – I want to rip his bloody throat out!" Harry snapped, writhing like a serpent out of Fenrir's arms. He whirled in Fenrir's grasp, striking him so hard across the face that his arm ached, the reverberations from the blow shuddering through his body. Everything fell silent. Harry just stood there breathing hard, struggling for air through his fury while Fenrir stared down at him, his face flushing red from the blow. Everyone was watching them. Weylyn had not dared to move.

The silence was ringing uncomfortably throughout the entire valley by the time Fenrir moved. His eyes stayed with Harry for as long as possible as he walked towards Weylyn's still spluttering form, until he was forced to look down at the traitor. "Why did you do it?" he demanded, his voice low but still somehow booming and threatening. At his feet Weylyn shuddered, but didn't dare _not _answer.

"I'm sorry, Alpha–"

"–Sorry you got found out!" Fenrir cut across him. "_Why _did you do it?" When Weylyn merely flinched Fenrir dove for him, dragging him up by his throat until he dangled a foot from the ground. "TELL ME!"

"I just thought that mutt Conall had a point!" Weylyn gasped, all of the words tumbling out so quickly that one was barely distinguishable from the other. It was as if he hoped the quicker he admitted it, the quicker he would be done with his punishment. No such luck. "I overheard when you told Echo what was said when he encountered you before – the whole pack knows but I'm the only one who realises there's some truth to what that rogue says!"

Fenrir dropped him to the ground. The wolf struggled to his feet, backing away from Fenrir as he continued hastily trying to explain himself – only digging himself a bigger hole in the process. "We all deserve what you now have," Weylyn said, glancing briefly to Harry, who was just watching events unfold motionlessly. "I knew he wouldn't submit to the act of conception on his own so I just…" he paused and then spat out the rest of his justification all in one breath. "He was born to breed for us, I thought if he conceived he'd realise that and consider our request."

Everyone backed up away from the two as every minute hair on Fenrir's body stood on end. "_Our _request?" he growled darkly. "You – you and Conall and the rest of those mongrels? You betrayed me and your Alpha Numero for your own selfishness and a few broody mutts?!" His entire body shook with rage. He knew he'd given him too many second chances. But no more.

Still wearing his human form, Fenrir dived for his prey, his teeth and nails scraping deep, unforgiving gouges into that traitorous flesh. Weylyn screamed. Fenrir roared with fury. A chunk of flesh broke off in his mouth, tearing from the defector's neck and splashing crimson blood across them both and the ground. One of those frantically scrambling legs was snapped sickeningly, the sound of fracturing bone followed by the most piteous whine Harry had ever heard – inhuman with pain.

At last Fenrir leant back on his haunches. Weylyn rolled over onto his back, a wolf now with fur splattered with blood and deep, gory wounds. His head dropped in pathetic submission and apology while his fractured back leg splayed out at an odd angle.

Watching in silence, Harry noted that the children had been shooed away from the fight just as it had begun by Amoux and Accalia, who now returned to his side as if for support. It didn't help to ease his suffering any, though he did appreciate the gesture.

Spitting at the form of the submitting turncoat, Fenrir rose to his feet. His hard pectorals and face were painted crimson and his eyes were wild as he spoke gruffly, unforgivingly. "You disgust me, lowest of the lowest scum of this earth and I banish you from our pack. Go and live with the mongrels you side with. Go and rot for all I care but don't let me catch your face in our territory again." There wasn't a sound from the onlookers, but Fenrir jerked his head up regardless, looking at them each in turn.

"Does anyone contest my decision?" he demanded, Weylyn's blood flying from his lips as he spoke. The decision was unanimous, from what Harry saw and _felt _from those standing around the scene. But he'd lived with them for a month now and he knew how important the pack was and how seriously a betrayal like this was taken.

"We have no room in this pack for back-stabbers in times like these," Echo murmured, breaking the silence with his serious tone. There were a few murmurs of agreement. Briefly, Fenrir locked eyes with Harry, as if searching for his opinion, but Harry gave none, still stunned to silence by the blow he himself had given Fenrir.

"I'll see that he follows the rest of the rubbish out," Echo said then, with a look in his eyes that somehow Harry _knew _meant _'so you can stay with Harry'_. Harry wasn't sure he liked that, but he said nothing regardless. He lingered only to watch a few moments of Weylyn's pitiful whines for forgiveness, before turning away. He couldn't be around people at the moment; he needed to process all that had happened since last night before his mind exploded with everything it was trying to cope with.

He'd have a bath – that was it. He would soak until his mind was muggy with the steam and with any luck he would pass out under the water and never wake up again.

By the time he realised that he really could not hide in the bath any longer, his skin was a ripe shade of pink all over, his head was quite giddy from the steam and his fingers and toes were pruned. With a sigh, he tipped his head back so that it rested on the edge of the sunken pool and stared up at the glistening ceiling carved from that mysterious stone.

There was so much going on, so many dangers and tasks he needed to complete, Voldemort, Horcruxes, the rogue wolves, but it all seemed overshadowed by that one very personal problem that he had refused to think about since the moment he'd stepped back into the safety of his den. There was a child inside of him – what the fuck was he meant to do about that?

He blinked hard up at the ceiling, as if staring at it long enough would reveal the answer. He'd only found out that this was possible a month ago, among all the rest of the chaos that had erupted the moment he'd woken up Fenrir Greyback's prisoner instead of Voldemort's. The idea had been degrading, sickening even and he remembered distinctly swearing he'd rather die than carry anything of Fenrir's inside of him. Except he'd been 'Greyback' back then, not 'Fenrir' and a lot had happened. So much had changed…

It was still degrading, made him feel revolted to remember how it had happened (and that his body had climaxed from it). It hurt to think his very male body had been emasculated somehow by being forced to do something he had (until recently) thought was a woman's task only. It was humiliating even contemplating what had happened to him but at the same time he knew he had to protect whatever was growing inside. He _had _to and it wasn't entirely down to his 'saving people thing' or his instincts to protect.

He cared about all life, which was the main reason he had become known for disarming rather than going for the kill in battle. And that included whatever living repercussion now grew inside him after last night. He couldn't say he loved it but he cared if it lived or died, no matter how desperately unhappy he was with the situation. With a long-suffering sigh, he glanced down at his body. It was scuffed from the tussle last night and fight this morning, but looked otherwise unchanged.

Slowly, his hands drifted down his torso with hesitation, hovering over his stomach for a moment before he finally got the nerve to touch. His fingers moulded to his flat belly, taut with lean muscle and his brow furrowed. He didn't truly understand how or why it had to happen to him, but there was life growing beneath his hands. He felt weird, awkward just touching his own stomach now.

Now what was to become of the future planned out for him, set by the mistakes of wizards more than twice his? He had horcruxes to hunt, a dark lord to conquer but how could he do that now?He closed his eyes to stop the world from spinning in dizziness brought on by a mixture of stress and steam. What the fuck was he going to do?

"_I'll help you finish him,"_ he remembered Fenrir murmuring against his throat. _"I'll wipe him off the face of the earth… Lupa and Hemming are looking for your little friends. They'll help them. We'll be able to move more freely and do more once He is convinced you're nothing to worry about but until then… Stay with me…" _

Those words were still true, but he felt a sense of renewed urgency now. Time was limited until he would be physically hampered by this…_condition_ that had been thrust on him. Or would this condition only accelerate the process of Voldemort believing him well and truly broken? He would see him on his knees as a sex slave and breeding vessel to Fenrir Greyback. He would surely think Harry defeated, would enjoy it even. Would it work? Once he could move more freely, he could maybe even join up with Ron and Hermione again and finish this once and for all.

He winced as he slid out of the water at last, his bruises and scrapes no longer throbbing, soothed by the perpetually clean, warm water. It wasn't all as simple as it sounded though. It all depended largely on Fenrir's cooperation of course. Whether he cared to admit it or not, Harry needed him, in more ways than one. He wasn't sure what Fenrir's views on this plan would be after he'd outright punched him, disrespected him in front of the pack. He wouldn't have to wait long to find out though, he thought as the sound of the door to the den opening signalled Fenrir's arrival.

Harry swore he heard Fenrir sniffing subtly, as if assuring himself that Harry was in here. Beside the pool, Ghost pricked his ears, evidently having heard him too and a moment later, Fenrir's tired, still blood-covered form appeared in the archway to the main part of the den. His eyes were unreadable as he observed Harry. Silence stretched between them while they both tried to find the right words. The few hours they'd been separated seemed to have made the awkwardness worse. There was so much to discuss and yet neither of them wanted to make the first move.

"You alright?" Fenrir murmured eventually, his rough voice betraying nothing. Harry shrugged. The answer was no, of course but then Fenrir had known that before he'd even asked. Feeling uncomfortable with the werewolf watching him sans clothes, he turned and pulled an oversized towel around him, drying himself while revealing as little of his flesh as possible.

"Weylyn is gone and the pack are… Well, they're unsettled that they were betrayed by one of our own but I think they're all the better with the scum filtered out," he said, unwittingly answering Harry's unasked question; where Fenrir had been for the last couple of hours. He'd been tending to the repercussions Weylyn's treachery had unleashed on the pack. It wasn't just that it was done to plot against him, Harry, the whole pack had been in danger last night when the gates were open. He supposed in the pack's eyes, a lot worse could've happened than him getting impregnated by the alpha, which they probably thought was the most wonderful thing in the world anyway.

Harry winced at that, hating how bitter the voice of his thoughts sounded. "Do they know?" he asked, without really caring about the answer.

Those cool blue eyes surveyed him carefully before a reply sounded. "They could smell it. They know," Fenrir replied, stepping further into the room. His body still bore the wounds from earlier and Harry could not help but stare at them. Fenrir however, didn't seem to notice. "Amoux would like to speak with you when you're ready. She was taught the secrets of midwifery by the woman who delivered me and my siblings. She should know everything you need to know."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, his fingers gripping the towel around him so tightly he felt his knuckles begin to quiver. "And what if I don't want to know?" he murmured, his voice barely audible, but before Fenrir could answer, he spoke again. "I s'pose they're all euphoric with…_this?_" he asked, gesturing to his body.

"Of course. It's a miracle to them, Harry, _you _are a miracle to them. Amoux, Accalia, the kids, fuck even Marrok is enamoured with you. They _adore _you, of course they're bloody happy," Fenrir retorted, his voice slightly sharp.

Harry glared at him. "You're all in bliss but none of you show my feelings on the matter any respect," he snapped, instantly chiding himself for the way that sounded. _Pathetic, _his mind spat.

"You hid yourself away in here almost immediately," Fenrir replied stiffly, "you haven't seen any reactions so how would you know?"

With a growl under his breath, Harry went back to drying himself. He didn't know what to say to that except, "So what if I wanted to be alone? I'm entitled to be pissed off about what's been done to me against my will," he muttered.

Suddenly, two firm hands gripped his shoulders through the towel, stilling him instantly. His entire body twitched. He didn't know how to react to that touch anymore. Those blue eyes, darkened with unreadable emotion stared down at him.

"And I'm entitled to be happy about the fucking miracle you and I created, whatever the circumstances," Fenrir growled.

"Bit soon for you to be asking for another smack in the face," Harry murmured darkly.

Fenrir roared in frustration. "I'm bloody _trying _with you, you know. You might make an effort to see my side as well. This is what we _are_, who we are – you were coming to understand, even enjoy that before last night."

"You're trying to make me into some _bitch_," Harry protested, struggling to free himself from Fenrir's grasp, but his limbs were trapped by the towel.

With another growl, Fenrir sneered at him. "When have I ever? I've never tried to change you! You seem to think fucking me and mating with me, carrying my cubs makes you less of a man or something, changes you in some way, but it doesn't. You're still the obnoxious, bad-tempered little shit I saw spitting at _His _attempts to break you. I'm giving you everything you've always wanted and have never dared to take for yourself!"

"When and if it suits _you_!" Harry declared. "You're right, I was…I was alright, or near enough alright with you, but I still wanted to get out of this cave and do what I was meant to do. I still wanted to see my friends, finish _Him. _And I didn't want last night or what came of it!" His throat ached from the shouting, but he couldn't stop. "You've turned my life upside down and you just expect me to adjust because it's _part of my blood_ or some shit like that!"

"I expect fuck all," Fenrir shot back, "I've worked my arse off trying to help you adjust and just because of what someone else did to _both of us _last night, you're ready to piss away all the progress we've made over the last month."

That made any reply that had been brewing die on Harry's tongue.

"You're making me into the enemy when we've both been betrayed," Fenrir continued when Harry said nothing, "the fact that I'm less upset about it than you are doesn't change that."

"Of course I'm upset," Harry all-but whispered, loathing the defeated tone to his voice. "I can't do this as well; another thing I have to save or protect from Vol– _Him_, from rapist rogue werewolves…" At this Fenrir's grip on his arms slackened and Harry backed away from him, lowering his eyes, biting back the liquid stinging the backs of them.

"I'll protect you, both of you," Fenrir mumbled, gesturing to Harry's stomach again. Harry took another few steps back, still not looking up. "I meant what I said, you know, when the time is right I'll wipe him off the face of the earth…for you."

"_I_ have to kill him, Fenrir, it has to be me," Harry said, his voice weary.

Fenrir's expression, his sincerity remained unchanged. "It will be you, but through me," he explained, gripping Harry's shoulders tighter for a moment, before caressing them with his calloused thumbs soothingly. "I saw how strong you were today, pet," he breathed. "I saw your power, but if you think that makes a difference to what we agreed about _Him _you're mistaken. He's not getting close to you with a ten foot bloody pole – is that clear?"

Harry glared up at him, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he realised quickly the difference between this kind of pig-headed domineering behaviour and the kind the Dursleys used to display. The look in those hard blue eyes told him that it was more down to the fact that he cared about him, than the desire to control him – at least a little. _Oh, he'd love to control me, _his mind supplied, _but only because he cares… I think._

Holding that gaze for a long, silent moment, Harry pushed firmly at the alpha's chest and moved slowly around to the opposite side of the bath so that he could not grab him again. He wasn't ready to be held down or held in place again, especially not by Fenrir. Gazing into the steaming hot spring pool he found his voice again. "What I did back at the waterfall," he began hesitantly, "all that carnage and…_power_, that was the raw werewolf magic you said I would experience when the time came, wasn't it?"

Fenrir nodded slowly. "A taster of it. You'll have more to come. It's a lot like your accidental, adolescent wizards magic, as I understand it."

With a wince, Harry asked, "And will it always be as explosive as that? As intense? I felt the way I do during moon heat only…worse. It was like another part of me had taken over."

"You'll gain more control over time, the same as your wizard magic. It's in tune with your emotions and instincts. With practice you'll be able to summon it and channel it through you at will without a stupid wand and without needing an emotional high, but like I said, with practice."

Harry frowned. "And until then? I'll just have these random outbursts whenever I'm pissed off, like today?"

Fenrir observed him carefully as he replied, "You wanted to protect me and the cub, that's why it hit you so hard and so fast, because you were afraid for us."

Partially stunned, partially indignant at the accusation, Harry just stared at him. What was he supposed to say to that? "I don't like _anyone _dying, especially not in front of me and least of all when I could've done something to stop it," he murmured quietly.

With a derisive snort, Fenrir slid into the water. The steamy surface rippled with his movements. Circular patterns danced across it away from Fenrir's muscled, blood and dirt encrusted body and towards the edge where Harry stood. It was as if it was beckoning him in. Still watching him, Fenrir slowly began to clean his body of the evidence from the fight, wincing as he skimmed the particularly nasty gash across his side – the old wound that had been reopened.

"Why are you so terrified of admitting you give a shit about me? That you already care about the part of me growing inside you?" Fenrir demanded gruffly, sinking lower into the water to wash the blood from his hair. Harry winced at the terminology, but Fenrir saved him the trouble of having to think of a reply. "Are you afraid it'll mean you have to admit you want to stay here?"

Harry shook his head, exasperated. "No matter how comfortable you make it for me here, the fact remains that I'm trapped here, and this–" he gestured to his belly uncomfortably, "it just makes me feel even more trapped."

"I told you, we're all trapped here because of _Him, _once he's dealt with you'll have more freedom," Fenrir began.

"And what if when that day comes I don't want to stay here anymore? What if I want to leave, will you try and stop me?" Harry demanded, because that was what this was about, why they kept coming back to the same dead end. He wanted free will, the freedom to choose a life for himself.

Washing the last of the blood and grime from his body, Fenrir rose from the water, pulling himself out of the spring with droplets of water dripping down across his face and body. Steam rose from his hot, clean skin as he stared down at Harry. "Of course I would," he said simply, albeit with a low, husky tone, his eyes dark and intense as ever. "I want you, why wouldn't I fight for what I want?" The briefest heartbeat thudded in the silence and then he added, "but you like it here, you like it with me, so the point is moot." With that he reached for Harry, who staggered back out of his reach, still clutching the towel tightly around him.

"Don't recoil from me as if I'd hit you," Fenrir snapped, "If I remember rightly it was the other bloody way around!"

Harry winced. "I know and I'm sorry but I just…can't," he said tiredly. "I need some space from you – from all of this. I want to sleep in Amoux's den tonight, maybe for the next few nights–"

"Don't be ridiculous," Fenrir snorted, "this is your den. You're pregnant now, you need to be in a place you know with smells you recognise. This is where you're going to give birth–"

"Don't!" Harry snapped, shaking his head and barely refraining from clapping his hands to his ears. "Don't talk about me using those…those words. They make me cringe." His teeth grated together at the echo of them in his head. "I'm not a _girl_!"

Fenrir snarled. "You're being fucking ridiculous, Harry. I've told you, you're the only one that keeps thinking of yourself like a woman just because you–"

"If you stopped treating me like one it'd be easier to believe," Harry growled. "You're the one getting so pissed off just because I want some space! It's not much to ask after what's happened!"

"You can't run away from me," Fenrir growled darkly, "You can't hide away from your fears or your desires. We're mated – we have to deal with what happened together. It happened to both of us!"

Harry shook his head, striding out through the arch and back into the den, hastily throwing off the towel and pulling on a pair of clean trousers before Fenrir stormed into the room after him. "I'm not a coward," Harry snapped, beckoning a confused looking Ghost onto the bed and petting him calmingly. He didn't seem to like it when he and Fenrir fought and he somehow knew it was because they were the alpha pair – the pack was in discord when they were at each other's throats.

"I'm not running, I just want some time alone, is that much to ask?" he muttered through gritted teeth.

"Time for you to fester, to blame yourself for what happened and to completely piss away what little bliss I've given you the last month!" Fenrir declared, glaring at him, naked as the day he was born and dripping over the furs that covered the floor. The alpha grit his teeth now, evidently fighting a battle to rein in his soaring temper. "I can't let you do that, Harry."

"It's not a case of _'let' _me!" Harry retorted hotly. "I'll do what I want and if you think it's not a good idea for me to sleep elsewhere then _you _leave!"

That growl was back again, reverberating deep in the beast's throat. "How dare you try to send me packing like a snivelling lap dog!"

At that, Harry gave a great rolling snarl of exhaustion and despair and threw himself back onto the bed. "Fine, I don't even care anymore, but if you try and touch me, or try to get in this bed with me tonight – any night, I'll bite your fucking bollocks off." With that he rolled over onto his side so that his back faced Fenrir, wrapping himself tightly in the furs as if they would protect him from any potential advances.

There was a moment of nothing, where all he heard was the werewolf's violent breathing. Eventually, Fenrir stomped across the room with heavy-footed rage, noisily snatched up some clothing and slammed the door on his way out of the den.

Harry exhaled slowly, too tired to feel what he knew he should, anger, frustration, fear, humiliation, guilt. He was just so very tired. Spooning up against Ghost's side, he rested his head on the wolf's belly, the scent calming him. He sighed as he felt the wolf lick at a tuft of his hair comfortingly and petted his white muzzle in thanks. _There's no way me and him can survive together long enough to kill Voldemort, much less raise a child, _he thought worryingly, closing his eyes tighter as if that would make the problems go away. He cuddled closer into Ghost's warm fur. _Fenrir and I will tear each other apart long before then…_

_~To Be Continued..._


	12. Only Time Will Tell

A/N: Not sure how I feel about this chapter. It's mainly about growth. It's subtle and understated. I hope not too understated - call it the calm before the storm and perhaps an intermission that focuses solely on Fenrir and Harry's recovery from what happened. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you again for all the lovely reviews, they all mean the world to me.

* * *

.: Chapter Twelve :.

Only Time Will Tell

Time passed in the valley between the mountains. The air turned warmer as summer greeted them with longer days and a blissful heat that seemed to enrich the pack with delightful peace. The youngsters spent most days playing noisily but happily on the sun-kissed grass. Today Harry watched them from where he lounged across the relatively flat boughs of the willow, overlooking the pool they were currently splashing each other in.

It wasn't a very difficult climb up and it gave him a place to sit without worrying that everyone was watching him. It was fairly cool as well, with the long swaying leaves shielding him from the sun but allowing in the breeze. Ghost lay in the shade of the tree below, as close to him as ever.

Everyone had been very thoughtful regarding the…situation. They smiled knowingly, kindly at him and Harry swore Amoux was making more effort with his meals than necessary, but that didn't stop them looking – looking at his stomach in particular with every chance they got. It was the very tiny elephant in the room that nobody spoke of and that suited him fine, because he didn't want to speak of it. Not when he was only _just_ able to think of it without cringing at the word 'pregnant' or 'baby'.

Fenrir had been sleeping on the pile of plush furs around the fire in their den, permitting him some respect at least. He hadn't challenged Harry's threat, had not even attempted to join him in the bed or touch him, though Harry sensed that he wanted to. Truth be told, a part of him wanted it too but he just wasn't ready to open himself up, not again, not so soon.

There had remained a strict invisible barrier of a foot or so between them at all times since their argument a few months ago. Fenrir's attitude was the same, just as brash, just as tempestuous but his reserved demeanour around him made Harry uneasy, awkward even. Though he realised as he stared up at the sky through the glittering gaps between the leaves, this was Fenrir's way of showing he was trying, apologising. _He feels bad for what happened, _his mind supplied, but he knew this already.

At first he'd been glad of an opportunity to increase the gap between them, but now he just wished things could go back to how they had been before. He didn't know if that meant he wanted to stay here, or if he wanted the infant growing inside him, or even if he wanted to be part of this peculiar family here in the valley. All he did know, was that he'd never been so close to peace or happiness as that first month he'd been here, never felt so wanted. It hadn't been perfect, but it'd been the best he'd ever felt. Now he just felt like a burden that everyone tiptoed around. All his own doing, of course.

Closing his eyes briefly, Harry inhaled the summer breeze, smelling Fenrir not too far off from the boundaries of the mountain, out with a few others hunting as he understood it. They spent a lot of time these days making forced, inconsequential talk and this morning as Fenrir had departed, he'd paused on the threshold of the gates and offered Harry an almost longing glance before vanishing with the others out of sight. Harry blinked up at the canopy of the trees again. It was the full moon again tonight and though he didn't go into 'heat' as such anymore, he always felt uneasy, fidgety and apprehensive. It was down to the others all exuding their usual monthly aggression and arousal, he knew that, but it didn't help that he lay wrapped in his furs every time, fighting the growing urge to seek comfort in his mate.

With a wince he looked down at his stomach, covered by his pale green, loose shirt. He still felt compelled to go to Fenrir because of his own hormones, because of his 'situation' but that wasn't the only reason he grinded his teeth in frustration at his own pathetic thoughts. _I miss how he made me feel, _he thought wretchedly, _but I'm not sure if I miss him. _Didn't that make him a selfish, wretched person? Wanting someone for how they made him feel – or was that the only reason that every night seemed to be getting worse? He was so confused.

Suddenly, movement from the side yanked him from his thoughts. He glanced to the side to see Vilkas climbing up to sit with him atop the tree's expansive trunk. He beamed happily, it was a stunning expression of such innocence and adoration that Harry could not help but respond in kind.

"You alright?" he asked the boy gently, watching him carefully as he made himself comfortable beside Harry. Harry may not have had much more excitement with his 'werewolf' magic since that battle with Conall and the others, but he was confident enough in his reflexes that he wouldn't fall out of the tree. Vilkas was still a boy, however and Harry felt curiously protective of him – and the other children for that matter. Whether down to his personality, alpha status or 'breeder' ability, he wasn't certain.

Vilkas nodded brightly to his question, but a light frown was furrowing his brow. "Mum says you tired all time now, that why you watch and not play," he said, still looking on Harry with confusion.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I s'pose that's right. Heat doesn't help either though," he said.

Vilkas didn't seem to have registered his response, however. "Mum said you want to hide at the moon too," he continued.

Harry sat up a fraction from where he lounged across the branches. "It's instinct, you know what that means, don't you?" he asked softly.

The little blond boy nodded, seemingly proud that he had such knowledge of a 'grown-up' thing. "It's 'cause you got puppies in your belly," Vilkas said matter-of-factly, his round, bright eyes on Harry's covered stomach now, still looking confused. Harry blanched, stunned and horrified at the words that plagued him, yet spilled so easily from the tot's mouth.

"Yes," Harry breathed, slowly, quietly, as if admitting it aloud made it true. The boy's eyes were wide now as he looked into Harry's face. He looked amazed as well as confused.

"Never seen a puppy before – I get called puppy. Am I not the puppy anymore?" he asked, his brow creased with his youthful naivety. Harry couldn't speak, couldn't forge a coherent reply. The little boy edged forwards in the tree, eyeing Harry curiously with a glow in his young eyes. "Can I see?"

Swallowing, hard, Harry froze. He didn't even like to look at it himself! He avoided touching his stomach now at all costs and whenever he skimmed it briefly when he washed or dressed it would make him freeze on the spot. But even as his mouth moved soundlessly, uselessly to form some kind of answer, Vilkas was leaning forwards, resting his small head on Harry's still clothed stomach. His ear rested on the still relatively flat plain of Harry's belly – he'd been so skinny before that now he just looked like he'd eaten a few overzealous meals in the last few weeks. He couldn't see his stomach muscles with much definition anymore, but he definitely didn't _look _pregnant.

He stared curiously at the boy's face and the look of wonderment that crossed it as he listened at his stomach. Then the frown crossed it again. "I can't hear any puppies," he mumbled, sounding disappointed. After a moment, he lifted his head to gaze at Harry, his tiny hands still on Harry's stomach. "Let me see?" he asked and with a deep, slow breath in, Harry reached down for his shirt hem.

With trepidation he tugged his shirt up to rest on his chest and both he and Vilkas seemed to look down at the barely there convex of his abdomen. Harry moistened his suddenly dry lips. He felt like Sigourney Weaver in that _Alien_ movie he'd got a peek of when Dudley had watched it back at Privet Drive. He must've looked horrified; Vilkas, however merely tipped his head to the side, caressing the skin inquisitively with his hands. Harry twitched. It tickled.

"How do they fit there?" Vilkas asked, genuinely confused again. He leant down to look at Harry's stomach from the side. "Too small."

There was something so endearing and enlightening about the boy's innocent curiosity. Harry had avoided contact like the plague for months and this was the first touch he'd felt – it was so sweet. It made the situation a little less _'Alien' _and a little more _'Look Who's Talking'. Or more like 'Junior', _he thought with a cringe. Was he going to be like that? A fat man waddling around? He winced – he'd been so busy ignoring the problem (or trying to) that he hadn't even though of _that!_

A far too ticklish touch snapped him from his thoughts and he instinctively grabbed Vilkas's hands, choking back a snort of laughter. Vilkas beamed at him. "You smiled!" He declared triumphantly. "I made a smile!"

"You did," Harry agreed, chuckling softly, his mood uplifted as he tugged his shirt back down over his belly. It was strange, he felt warm all over, almost too hot in the summer heat and yet his stomach felt cold; unnaturally so. It had been for some time now but in his determination to ignore the 'problem' he had ignored that sensation also.

Funny, how a child had been the one to make his childish plan of 'ignore it and it will go away' come to an end.

"How many puppies? The wolves have lots of babies at once," Vilkas said as Harry sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the tree and beckoning the boy into his embrace so that he could take them both down safely.

Harry hesitated uncomfortably. "Just one I hope," he said truthfully, waiting for the boy to wrap his arms around his neck before climbing carefully back down the willow's helpful, wide trunk. Once his feet were back on the ground, Harry noted that Vilkas did not release his hold on him, not that he minded much. He'd missed the boy in his attempt to hide away from everyone's eyes.

Ghost got up, wagging his tail in greeting at him. Harry petted him in appreciation, but couldn't help the geyser of anticipation that swelled up in his throat. Everyone was out enjoying the summer sun one way or another and he could sense their heightened instincts already in full swing. He swallowed uncomfortably.

"I protect you?" Vilkas said comfortingly and when Harry turned his head to meet those eyes, the little boy placed a hand on Harry's cheek. "I be alpha and protect you?"

Harry smiled appreciatively. "You'll be a great alpha one day, Vilkas," he replied, "I can rest easy now that I've got you and Ghost to guard me." His voice was good-humoured, better than he'd heard it himself in weeks. He lowered the boy to the ground, smirking as he started to tussle with Ghost. Settling down at the base of the tree with his back against the bark, he closed his eyes and against habit, for the first time in months, he relaxed in full view of the rest of the pack, trusting his instincts that he was safe here. That those eyes on him were something to be grateful for, not to fear.

He must have dozed off for it was practically dark when he opened his eyes. The last of the sun's rays were dying behind the mountain-side somewhere. It would be nightfall soon and the pack would change. He'd spent the last two moons shut in the den away from them all, including Fenrir and that was where he would be heading tonight too. Despite his slightly improved mindset regarding…everything, he wasn't ready to face the pack under the full moon yet.

Everyone seemed to be clearing up after their meal, readying for the change. He was just wondering if he had enough time to wolf something down when he realised he was being approached. Beside him, Ghost lifted his head and wagged his tail in greeting as Fenrir came to stand over them both, the fading sunlight silhouetting him against the sky.

"It's odd to see you relaxing in full view of everyone," he murmured, his voice pregnant with deep thought. Harry flushed slightly, embarrassed to have been caught after falling asleep. It was tiring being on edge all the time, being anxious and stressed, he supposed. "You must've been tired," Fenrir continued, lowering himself down onto his haunches so that he wasn't towering over him.

Harry was saved from having to answer by Vilkas barrelling in, naked as the day he was born and leaping like a dog in between Fenrir and Harry on all fours. "I protect Harry," he declared proudly, his little face quite serious, "he scared of wolves! I'll protect him!"

A small smirk broke across Fenrir's stubbled mouth. His sharp white teeth glinted in the dim light. "Is that so?" he asked, looking from Vilkas to Harry and back again. "Even from me?"

Vilkas's serious glare turned into a frown of confusion then. Evidently he wasn't quite sure of that and so he simply shook his head free of that question and stated happily, "I got see puppies! I got to touch!" He rocked back and forth on his hands and knees with excitement. "They're in his belly!"

Wincing slightly at this declaration, Harry shifted up to right himself from where he'd slumped against the tree and could not help but notice the way Fenrir's eyes flashed down to the slither of stomach that was revealed as he adjusted himself. Harry tugged his shirt down as subtly as he could and cleared his throat awkwardly. That gaze lingered there for a moment too long after that, before they focused on Harry's face again.

"Go find your mum, Vilkas, the moon is nearly here," he said distractedly, not taking his eyes from Harry.

The little boy gave a final glance back to Harry, as if to ensure he was ok before bounding off obediently to find his mother. He left behind an awkward silence that frequented the moments that Harry was alone with Fenrir – or anyone else for that matter. Harry fidgeted, patting Ghost's neck just to give himself an excuse to look away from his mate's unfathomable gaze.

"You look pale," Fenrir murmured at last, cautiously breaking the silence between them. "Here, eat." He handed out the bowl he'd been holding and offered it to Harry. It smelt like salmon and sweet potatoes; he'd overheard Amoux mentioning to Accalia about foods that were good for the body when it was 'expecting' the other day. He assumed these must be particularly good, he usually just had a more thoroughly cooked version of whatever everyone else had…

Taking the bowl in silence, Harry nodded his thanks and began eating, unable to _not _notice the way Fenrir watched him the entire time. He was very pensive tonight, was it because of the moon? Because of what Vilkas had said?

"That boy is very attached to you, even more than the other kids," Fenrir mused aloud.

That suggested it was because of what Vilkas had said then, Harry thought and forced himself to look up at Fenrir's face. "He wants to be alpha one day," he said softly, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere between them. It seemed to work a little, for Fenrir smirked.

"He's a good kid, absolutely infatuated with you, but good," the alpha muttered, glancing briefly to Harry's stomach again, as if wondering if whatever was in there would grow to become anything like that. When he spoke next, however, it was nothing to do with the obvious thoughts Harry could see swimming in his eyes.

"The closer we get to the full moon rising the more fear I sense rolling off you. We can all smell it; I thought you knew you were safe here?" Fenrir asked, his usual gruffness almost covering up his confusion – almost.

Harry didn't know what to say. Deep down he knew that was true, that most of the people here would rather die than hurt him and that what had happened with Fenrir two full moons ago had been an anomaly. _It only happened because I let Fenrir get too far, _he thought – that didn't make it _his_ fault, he knew that too. Neither was it truly Fenrir's, but he still just couldn't bring himself to face him as a wolf again, not yet.

With a low sigh, Harry put his now empty food bowl aside and Ghost lapped up the sauce at the bottom with interest. "It's just a…mental barrier or something," Harry conceded eventually, forcing himself to hold Fenrir's gaze. "I'm not afraid of the pack, or you. I feel on edge all the time because of…well, you know," he gestured uncomfortably to his stomach and Fenrir gave such a slight nod that Harry almost missed it.

"The wolf has pined for you the last few moons," Fenrir murmured huskily, his azure eyes shining in the growing darkness, reflecting the last few rays of the sun. "I want to see you under the moon tonight."

Harry winced. "I…_can't,_" he managed out, uncertain how to take the intense angst in those eyes. For once he didn't think it had anything to do with desire – not of the sexual kind in any case. He wasn't sure how to deal with that. How much more time would pass before he would feel the way he had only two months ago? Or was that beyond his reach now? Was he spoiled goods?

Fenrir continued to stare at him. For a moment Harry was sure he was about to say something else, but the alpha seemed to think better of it. Without another word Fenrir rose slowly to his feet and turned to leave him sitting alone by the tree once more.

A growl of sheer frustration and misery rumbled through Fenrir's lips the moment he was out of reach of Harry's hearing. He snarled as one of the others approached. They were no doubt about to ask him a question about the night's arrangements, but they quickly got the message. Only Echo dared approach him in such a foul mood.

"Give him some time," the beta assured him, glancing in Harry's direction, watching the boy vanish into his den with Ghost, closing the door behind him. The door that Fenrir _knew _Harry had asked Accalia to reinforce against the entry of wolves during the moon. Once that door was closed it could only be opened by a humanoid hand. His wolf had scrambled and scratched at the door enough without success the last few moons to prove Accalia's magic true.

"Time has gotten me nowhere so far," Fenrir growled through clenched teeth, feeling the aggression and pent up sexual tension that the moon inspired swell within him as sunset approached. "He just withdraws further into himself, further away from me. It should be my hands on his belly and my cub."

Echo moved to stand in front of him, studying his expression. "You're hurt by that. Why didn't you tell Harry that? It is crucial for the infants to have contact with the father and the pack if possible as well–" His words were cut short by a sharp snort of disdain from Fenrir.

"_You _try telling him that, he just wants it to disappear," he grumbled, lifting his head to stare at the now cloudy sky, where the moon would appear in a matter of moments.

"Can you blame him?" Echo asked with a small, knowing smile. "Not just because of what happened but because he is so young and so new to our way of life. He's barely had time to adjust to one aspect before something else has been thrown at him. And as I understand it, he has a great deal of problems left unsolved back in the wizarding world as well."

Fenrir mumbled in agreement half-heartedly. Yes, he knew this but that didn't make it any easier to handle, or to help Harry, or to comply with his wishes for some space when all it was doing was making them both pissed off and miserable. "So what am I bloody well meant to do?" he demanded of his friend, his limbs almost humming with the proximity of the moon. It was close. "You know everything, so tell me."

With a small chuckle, Echo took a few steps back from him, providing enough space in between them that they wouldn't accidentally hurt each other as they turned. "Let him come to you, Alpha. Trust him." With that, the sun died, the clouds parted and the moon glistened high in the sky.

* * *

What followed was probably the longest and most emotionally (and physically) exhausting night of Harry's life. He lay on the bed of furs, his body burning hot – far too hot and yet his belly freezing no matter how many blankets he pulled around him. He even tried to steal some of Ghost's body heat to warm it but it just didn't help. It felt as if he'd swallowed an iceberg. The sounds of the pack tussling outside were more than audible, but they were not what made him wince and ache all over – it was the howling.

Greyback was howling – for him and Harry felt his distress and loneliness thick in his throat, so potent he could barely breathe. The mixture of sharp cold and aching heat fighting through his limbs made him fidget restlessly on the bed, made his chest rise and fall in cold sweats.

Claws scrabbled frantically against the wood of the door, which shuddered under the force of _Greyback's _bodyweight as he struggled to enter – to reach his mate. The sheer distressing nature of the sounds made his eyes flicker to the door nervously, but he knew Greyback couldn't get in. Only Fenrir could, come the morning.

But there was Fenrir's unyielding pain in Harry's head, in his chest right now, along with two other voices battling for dominance. His instincts, that wanted nothing more than to roll over and feel his alpha's fur against his skin, feel that tongue claiming him – strengthening the claiming scent that was nowhere near as powerful as it should be. And of course his human anxiety that wanted to curl under the covers, fall asleep and never wake up.

Writhing in fits of anxiousness and the distress of his mate, sleep avoided him until the moon had all-but faded from the sky. But it didn't rest with him long. Just as the sun began to rise, turning the sky pink with its presence, he was tugged brutally back from his uneasy slumber by the sound of the den's door opening. He'd eventually fallen asleep on his side, with Ghost resting against his belly to comfort him, both of them facing the door.

Cracking an eye open, Harry saw Fenrir's naked body silhouetted against the first rays of the sun through the doorway, before he closed the door behind him quietly. The room was still quite dim with the early morning light trickling through the great columns that often illuminated it. They seemed to have a sense of timing, however for they never expressed the day's full brightness until much later in the morning. So it was that Harry squinted to make Fenrir out as the man moved slowly across the room, settling down on the furs around the last burning embers of the fire circle. He hadn't had a good night either, Harry could tell.

Was this all just happening to them because of the moon? Surely not; the wolf and Fenrir were the same being, shared the same emotions, surely that meant that if the wolf was pining for him last night, then Fenrir was too? He closed his eyes, not wanting to betray his consciousness yet. He wasn't ready for the conversation that would occur or the inevitable awkwardness. They both knew what the other had suffered last night. What they still suffered now.

It wasn't just that he missed the way Fenrir made him feel, he knew that now. _I miss him, _he thought, curling up tight around Ghost's still sleeping form. But this revelation didn't change the fact that he still wasn't sure he could handle the sight or feel of _Greyback, _intimacy in general or the most pressing matter that hung unspoken between them. Or inside him, as the case may be.

That was when he realised. _Am I clinging to what happened, making an effort _not _to move past it because as soon as I grow close to Fenrir again, I'll have to accept that I'm…? _He thought he already knew the answer, but as soon as it struck him a sharp, aching _freezing _tide swept up inside his stomach. He couldn't help himself, he cried out. His back arched and his hands flew down. "Shit!" he swore, his face twisting with pain.

In his writhing panic, he rolled over, straight off the bed – only just catching himself on his hands and knees. He hissed as they collided with the hard floor, grateful for the plush fur rugs that took the brunt of his fall. Without thinking, allowing his instincts to carry him along the invisible tide of pain, he found himself at Fenrir's side, on his knees. His entire body shaking.

"What's happening?" he gasped, meeting Fenrir's eyes. Harry grit his teeth. His insides were filled with throbbing coldness now and yet the rest of him felt hot. Droplets of sweat beaded across his skin. He had felt this disembodied cold feeling focused in his stomach before, but it had never been this painful, this overwhelming.

"Make it stop!" Harry snarled in part panic, part fury at his own helplessness. Fenrir reared up onto his knees and swatted Harry's hands away from his stomach; replacing them with his own large, rough palms. His thick fingers moved across the relatively flat flesh, assessing him but as he did so, Harry found he could catch his breath again. He stared down at where Fenrir was touching him for the first time in months.

"W-What the–"

"I'm not sure," Fenrir growled thoughtfully, his eyes (still rimmed with gold from the recent transformation) glowing in the darkness, intent on Harry's stomach. "Here," he murmured, "lay down, you don't smell right when you're fussing."

Harry frowned at the odd choice of words, but moved with those hands regardless, finding himself lying in a nook of furs with Fenrir looming over him, his hands still on Harry's stomach. Fenrir's brow was furrowed. Harry's lips moved soundlessly a few times in attempts at speech, but any effort died on his tongue. He didn't know what to say. His skin still felt achy, his limbs were still shuddering slightly. Why?

"How long've you felt like this?" Fenrir asked, his voice low.

Harry blinked up at him, taking a moment to make sense of those words as slowly, his panic receded back into the dark recesses it had swept from. "A few weeks… I don't really… The last two moons I've felt a bit…_weird_ but the feeling came and went. It was never this bad," he muttered, looking down again when those hands tensed on his stomach, which was still cold but no longer plagued by piercing, icy stabs.

"And you didn't tell me?" Fenrir demanded, his tone accusatory.

"We haven't been exactly _talking_."

Fenrir growled lowly. "And whose fault is that? You'd risk our cub's health over some irrational fear you have of me?"

"I'm not afraid of you!" Harry declared sharply, his voice not sounding quite as strong as he thought it should. His instinct was to do nothing more than lie back and relax under the touch he had been starved of for so long. He didn't _want _to argue but Fenrir just seemed to push his buttons. _Maybe I can blame the hormones, _Harry thought wretchedly, diverting his gaze from Fenrir's searching eyes.

"I didn't know what to do. This is all fucking terrifyingly new to me, alright? My body is being invaded by werewolf spawn and I'm only just coming to terms with…" He grit his teeth. He wasn't explaining himself very well. He was tired of going in the same circles. "Look, I've been a twat, alright, but so have you. I – I know I've been purposefully trying_ not _to get past what happened, to avoid accepting it," he muttered, staring at a particularly interesting spot in the dimness around them.

"I'm not ok with this, but I know I haven't tried – and no matter how disturbing it is for me to remember _how_ _it _came to be, it's no excuse for me not trying to deal with it," he growled again under his breath. He just sounded stupid now. He never had been a particularly loquacious person; words failed him at even the most pivotal moments. He was saved having to explain himself further, however, by Fenrir capturing his chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting it up.

Harry shook off the touch instinctually and instantly regretted the hastiness of which he did so when he saw the look in those eyes.

"It was good before Weylyn interfered, wasn't it?" Fenrir murmured huskily.

Harry swallowed, blinking a few more times than was necessary. "Imperfect," he said at last, his voice almost lost in the overwhelming silence, "but the best I've ever felt." He couldn't deny that much, Fenrir would know if he were lying. Slowly, the alpha nodded, his dark gaze suddenly commanding, rendering Harry unable to look away. He'd forgotten the glistening ring of gold that encircled those blue eyes whenever a particularly intense emotion ran through them both. He shuddered at the sight of it, and not from fear or discomfort – for the first time in weeks.

Rather than release him, the hand that gripped Harry's chin merely slid down to rest on his stomach again without permission. Despite the spike of irritation at Fenrir's presumptuousness, Harry's gradually warming insides quivered at the return of the touch. He wasn't sure that he liked it entirely – anyone else touching his stomach that way felt weird. He squirmed in discomfiture.

"But you still feel this is a prison to you, not a life," Fenrir said. It was a statement, not a question.

"I feel trapped," Harry confessed after a brief pause. But he knew he couldn't mince his words right now, not if he wanted to eradicate the awkward distress that hung between them – suffocating them. "Maybe if I'd had the chance to choose this myself and not be forced into it by circumstance along with everything else in my life… If _He _weren't out there killing everyone I care about and anyone else he comes across… Maybe if I weren't the bloody _'Chosen One'_…" _And if wishes were horses, _his mind supplied, finishing his nonsensical mumbling. He sighed heavily.

"But this is what it is. I feel trapped. I know while _He's_ alive we can't do much to change that but now _this _has been forced on me too. I'm not sure what you expect me to say," he said, forcing himself to stare unwaveringly into those eyes. That brow furrowed further. "What?" Harry demanded when he could stand the silence no more.

"I broke my promise. I swore I'd never force you to carry anything and I'll do whatever it takes to make up for that," Fenrir muttered gruffly. The forcefulness of his words were poor cover for the emotions rushing through their bond and bombarding Harry like a geyser. Harry blinked as that promise echoed from what seemed like so long ago now.

"_I told you that you would get to choose and I never break my promises. You may be pissed off with the way things began between us, call it force if you want but I won't be _forcing_ you to carry anything."_

The one thing Harry wanted though, Fenrir couldn't give. He'd sworn a blood oath that Harry would not escape, on _his _life – that and Voldemort would grab him the second he was out of Fenrir's range regardless. Harry also had a feeling their general area was being watched just in case Fenrir left the territory _with _him too, though he understood Fenrir's pride enough not to voice that suspicion aloud. _And besides_, a voice whispered at the back of his mind. _Is that what you really want, or just what you _think _you should_ _want? There's a difference._

Harry shifted slightly, uncomfortable with that thought. _My wishes don't matter, not yet, not until I've done what I set out to do. _

"We had a plan for _Him,_" Harry murmured, "I want you stick to it. As soon as he lets his guard down, we have to go find Ron and Hermione. Don't break any of the other promises you made me."

Fenrir regarded him with a peculiar expression. "Can't you be selfish and ask for something for yourself just once?" he griped and though his words were honest, Harry suspected that hadn't been the source of the odd look. He swore he'd felt something akin to relief radiate through him just then. He didn't have to press for an answer to his unasked question, however.

"I thought you'd ask me to get rid of it_,_" Fenrir murmured in a barely there, coarse whisper, his eyes fixed on Harry's face, as if studying his expression. Harry remained stone-faced. He didn't have a right to be hurt by that accusation, not after all he'd said to warrant it. The mention of his situation made him still, however. He could not help the mental flinch as the mere insinuation hammered at what was left of his masculinity, his pride. He wasn't ready to accept it, but he couldn't ignore it any longer.

With a sigh, he conceded. "You were right when you said I couldn't hurt it. It's still a child, no matter how it came into being." He paused briefly. "I'm not sure if that's the right decision or not..."

Fenrir pushed his chin up with his thumb again. "I can see now why people worship you, just like the Malfoy brat said," he muttered, inspiring a dark flush to blaze across Harry's cheeks.

"When the hell did he say that?" Harry demanded hotly.

"Just before we left," Fenrir answered dismissively, "but I can see that it's the truth and just why the entire wizarding world has gathered round you like a figurehead." He was so young, barely a man and yet he was so courageous, selfless, so determined to do what was right. Fenrir both despised and admired that uncompromising quality of character. It was what his pack needed, what the world needed – more people like him. It made him want Harry even more and yet he could not have him, not really.

"You always do what's right," Fenrir said, clearly thinking it _was _the right decision, "no matter how much it pains you. You would've bled to death on the floor at the _Tergarletum's _feet if I hadn't wanted you so badly." He shifted slightly, so that he was leaning over Harry a fraction more. His face was twisted in confusion and uncertainty so unlike him that it made Harry frown. He seemed to be fighting against something and it wasn't until he spoke that Harry realised it was his own pride he was doing battle with.

"I want to touch you," Fenrir breathed, voice raspy. It was his way of asking permission, something he wasn't known for. He was the alpha, he didn't need permission. And it was a sacrifice of his pride that he needed to ask his own sub for it, Harry knew that. "Let me," the werewolf demanded, his arms resting either side of Harry's body, caging him in – Harry didn't know if that was done purposefully or not.

"I'll try," Harry said stiffly. He tensed as the werewolf leant in, pressing his nose into the hollow of his throat and inhaling deeply, eyes closed, not touching him anywhere else. Every muscle in Harry's body tightened, but at the same time his skin tingled. His heart hammered at the feel of that hot breath on his neck, that comforting scent filling his nose. Which sensation, which instincts did he follow?

That familiar low, comforting growl emanated from Fenrir's lips, coursing through his body like a cooling breeze on an uncertain tide. He bit the inside of his cheek hard to stifle a desperate sound. This is the closest anyone had been to him since…

Inhaling sharply, his eyes clenched shut even tighter. "Fenrir," he began uncertainly, frantically moistening his suddenly dry lips. He didn't like feeling caged in, feeling Fenrir's weight pressing down on him, trapping him. He flinched, his hands curling into fists. Suddenly the low growl that left those lips grew more forceful, piquing as Fenrir rolled across Harry's body, knocking him with his thigh so that Harry ended up on top of him, without him ever touching or gripping him with his hands.

Harry stared down at him, so shocked to find himself in the dominant position when everyone's emotions were running so high – so close to the full moon. He caught a flash of those azure eyes rimmed with gold, then that nose was nestled in his throat again, while Fenrir's body and everything else seemed at a distance from him. While he, Harry was on top, he was in control as far as his basic instincts were concerned. His panic subsided slightly, though his breath still shuttered out of his lungs in uneven pants in time with his hammering heartbeat.

"I'll give you whatever you want," Fenrir growled huskily, his voice harsh and hard but as sentimental as Harry had ever heard it. He'd said that before but never with such determination thick in his voice.

"But don't flinch away from me," Fenrir growled. The '_I couldn't bear it' _was unspoken but obvious between them. Fenrir wouldn't say such things, but he didn't have to. Harry could feel everything and he was speechless under such intensity.

Evidently as disturbed by his silence as he would've been by anything Harry said, Fenrir's head jerked back and he stared questioningly at Harry's face. Suddenly his hand flew up, his thick, long fingers knotting in the hair at the back of Harry's head and tugging his head back slightly so that Harry had to strain his eyes to see him. His heart was thudding frantically now and yet his panic still did not peak again.

"I'm no good at soft and subtle, pet," Fenrir growled, radiating frustration and almost forlorn, "and it's driving me mad trying to be something I'm not."

Harry moistened his lips again. "I know who you are," he managed, "you don't need to lie to me, to be something you aren't out of some sense of guilt. I don't need or want coddling. I'm young but I'm not a child."

Fenrir could hear some of the boy's old self in his voice now, it reassured him. He could sense some of the old determination and confidence that had been absent in the past few weeks too and his fingers clenched tighter in those dark locks. He realised his error now, he'd thought he should give Harry distance, give into his every whim but that had gone on for far too long.

There were werewolf instincts inside him, werewolf pride and fear that would only heal with his alpha acting as he should – showing himself as the strongest, the most unyielding to prove he was capable of looking after him. _That _was why Harry was so irrationally afraid, why he hadn't been able to recover from what had happened when he'd last been faced with a transformed werewolf.

Still maintaining a tight grip on the boy's neck, he leant in to inhale at the corner of his jaw, nipping slightly. When Harry flinched in a mixture of fear and pleasure, Fenrir met his eyes, nuzzling the side of his mouth in both reassurance and dominance. That was what Harry needed to take his uncertainty away, to take away his need to worry about concerns he should not trouble himself with. It was Fenrir's job to make him comfortable, safe and untroubled – this was a mistake he intended to rectify immediately.

"You're breeding," he murmured, holding that gaze. "And while you are it's up to me to protect you, to take care of everything so all you have to concern yourself with is my whelp growing in your belly."

Harry flushed in anger and embarrassment, wincing at the reference to his condition. The smell of his anger made Fenrir inhale again instinctually. He could feel more and more of Harry coming back to him. It was intoxicating.

"So that's my job for the next seven months?" Harry growled, "feed your spawn and not to worry my little head about anything else?" He was tense like a trapped wild cat in Fenrir's grasp and Fenrir smirked at the sight of the returning fire in those eyes. Vibrant, blazing green.

"Three months, pet," Fenrir murmured casually, "Werewolves carry for five in total, which gives you three to go. And as for the latter, you can do whatever you want except get nearly killed or worry yourself to death. Any concern you have is mine to solve – is that clear?" His punctuated his words with that low, rumbling sound that made Harry roll his head and his toes curl as relaxation spread through his limbs. The boy went almost limp in his grasp.

"Three months?" Harry breathed sharply, horrified. Fenrir frowned, the boy obviously thought he would have a human cycle to get used to the idea. Belatedly he realised he should have been more delicate with that correction, but shrugged it off and pushed forward. He refused to linger any longer on things he could not undo. He'd learnt that hard lesson many years ago…

"I won't be ready in three months," Harry gasped and Fenrir released his head a fraction so that their eyes could lock fully.

"_We _will be," Fenrir assured him with a sharpness that didn't reach his eyes.

Harry snorted. "_We _won't be pushing werewolf offspring out of…" He flushed darkly. "Well I assume it comes out the way it went in."

Fenrir nodded in answer, his face tight with barely concealed amusement as Harry continued.

"Well it's coming out of my arse then and I'm not ready to…" The boy grit his teeth. "And I'm not ready to take care of anything when I can barely take care of myself! I can't do it!"

Fenrir frowned at the smell of panic rising again and gripped Harry's forearms tightly, so that his claws scraped the skin there, the slight pain bringing Harry back to the present, tugging him from his downward spiral.

"I'm to take care of you both until you feel ready, that's what my duty is as your mate," Fenrir told him, leaving no room for argument. His expression was stern and set.

Harry could feel the strength running through the arms that had him fixed into place, could feel the power thudding in those veins as his scent clouded with determination. But rather than frighten him, it made his limbs slowly relax. His stomach was warming slowly with their proximity and at last his breathing was calming down into an even tide of long, thoughtful breaths. Slumping slightly where he sat, Harry sighed.

"It'd be easier to face _Him _than deal with this," Harry muttered, "At least I'd know what to expect then."

Fenrir snorted. "You do know what to expect from this – a baby, everything else aside from that will come instinctually." He paused a moment, until his silence summoned Harry's gaze back from where it had wandered and back to his face once more. "You're not alone, Harry, and you never have to fear that you will be again. You've got a home now, a family – you have me."

Harry blinked. Fenrir had assured him of this before of course, but this was the first time that it had sunk in with such finality. He'd been a petulant child about everything that had happened the last few weeks – his reasoning not withstanding. He'd shunned Fenrir, was too uncomfortable now for him to lay hands on his belly or _his _child within and still the werewolf was beside him. Still this was Harry's home, still those blue eyes were staring into him as if he were the last surviving being in the universe.

This was unconditional, undivided affection and devotion of the like he was sure he'd never received since his parents died. No matter what he did, he didn't think he could get rid of this man. The last of the clenching, icy pangs abated with a small swell of warmth as he shifted slightly, bringing Fenrir's stomach mere centimetres from his own. This was what he needed right now.

"That was almost sentimental," Harry said with the barest of smirks, feeling the amusement touching his face for the first time in weeks. He felt lighter somehow, even though nothing had changed at all, not really. How could Fenrir do that?

The werewolf frowned, but his lips quirked up in answer, offering a flash of his pearly white fangs. "I don't think there's anyone else that would dare accuse me of that," he murmured, a dangerous glint in his eye. Then, he was serious again. He had to be, as much as he wanted to take advantage of Harry's openness. "I think you've realised by now that the cub needs close proximity to me, to the pack," he began, almost cautiously, wondering just when he had become so tentative in stating what needed to be said. He'd never been this way before Harry came, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Harry's brow furrowed. "Why didn't you tell me before?" he asked, though his voice was absent of any accusation.

"I didn't know it'd manifest like that, I thought it was just a guideline," Fenrir shrugged. "The last known birth of a pureblooded werewolf was my youngest brother and I was too young to realise what was going on."

Harry blinked at that. Fenrir never spoke about his family. Ever. "But…surely someone must have–"

"Amoux learned a lot from the woman that delivered me and my siblings. Anyone else old enough to remember, who was close enough to my family died in the raid that killed them," Fenrir said bluntly. He scratched the back of his neck in discomfiture, sitting up straighter in an effort to disguise any emotion. It was difficult with them this close, however. _And with the bond between us, _Harry's mind supplied.

"It's a bit of a mystery. But now we know you need some contact with me," Fenrir continued, dismissing the subject of his family. "I think some contact with the pack might help; you seemed better after letting Vilkas touch you. You need to feel protected, sheltered and provided for during this time, I know that much."

Glancing down at his stomach, Harry shifted back into the furs, drawing his knees up to put some space between their bodies. Thankfully, Fenrir seemed to get the hint and drew back as well, albeit with a disgruntled look on his face. Thinking of someone else's feelings before he acted was new for him, Harry could tell.

"I don't know if I want everyone pawing at my stomach, I feel enough of a freak as it is." Harry swore he _felt _a silent growl emanating from Fenrir's throat at that.

"You're a gift to us, not a freak and it pisses me off that you think otherwise," Fenrir snarled, his hands curling into fists on the furs. "Makes me wonder even more why you're so desperate to save a world that obviously made you feel that way. Even after saving their arses once."

Harry sighed. He didn't think Fenrir would ever understand wizards or the wizarding world, so there seemed little point in justifying himself again. "I'm a wizard too you know. This thing inside me will be part wizard too–"

"Not bloody likely," Fenrir snorted. "It's born from me, a werewolf and the werewolf aspect of your blood – it's all wolf." He paused then, seeming to give more thought to Harry's words. "Don't call it a 'thing' either."

"Well I'm not calling it a 'cub'," he cringed, "and the word 'baby' just…"_ Makes it seem more real, _he thought, even knowing how stupid that sounded, even in his head. How long would it take him to adjust to this? Would he be anywhere near accepting this by the time 'it' came? What if it was born and he couldn't stand the sight of it? His entire body tightened at the thought. He couldn't do this.

Suddenly, Harry felt Fenrir shift again so that he was beside him now, laying down, stiff with awkwardness as he tilted his head the slightest fraction to the side. Harry's eyes widened. It was the position of sincere contrition, one he'd never seen Fenrir adopt before, not even to him, who was the closest to his equal in pack politics.

"I'm sorry for what happened," the wolf muttered huskily. "I never wanted it to happen that way and believe what you like but I'd never have mounted you without your consent – as a wolf or as a man." He visibly grit his teeth in frustration and rebelling pride.

Harry found himself uncomfortable with the sight of his alpha submitting, even to him. Without realising, a low whine left his lips, an instinctual sound that hadn't shuddered past his lips in that manner for what seemed like an age. It made Fenrir's head right itself instantly, blue eyes flying to green in confusion.

Flushing darkly as the sound of his own whine echoed in his mind, Harry cleared his throat. "I know it wasn't your fault or mine, it doesn't undo what happened though," he muttered, not really knowing what else to say. That the sight of a transformed werewolf, the smell of them made his entire body seize up? That would be a pitiable admission from the mate of the most reputed werewolf alpha in the country.

Fenrir grunted, sitting up properly again so that he was staring down at Harry through his silver locks, mussed up from his recent transformation. He had scratches and bruises brewing on him even now from what Harry could see, which told him that the alpha had been aggressive out there tonight. _Out of frustration because he couldn't be with me, _Harry realised, though he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"I'd give you anything, whatever you wanted to make things the way they were before. Echo says things take time, to take it one step at a time," Fenrir said, almost mockingly, parroting his beta's words in irritation. He scratched the back of his neck again, sweeping his locks back behind his shoulder. "But I'm not patient, never have been and I don't know how to go about it either," he snapped.

At this, Harry could not help but smile. "That's something we have in common then," he replied, forcing himself to hold that gaze and not look away. There was a long pause before he found the strength to add, "and that's why, when you said you'd give me anything…" He took a final, deep breath in for courage, "I want you to take me to _Him_."

_~To Be Continued..._

* * *

As requested, character name pronunciation key _(please note that some accents/languages change the pronunciation, I'm just using how my region would say them_):

Conall - [Kon] as in 'constant' and [Ull] as in 'pull'

Caleb - [Kay] as in 'okay' and [lub] as in 'club'

Canagan - [Can] as in 'I can' [Na] as in 'nat' and [Guhn]

Larentia - [Lah] as in 'the latter' [Ren] as in 'rent' [See] [Ah] as in 'apple'

Weylyn - [Way][Lin] as in 'linched'

Marrok - [Mah] as in 'matter' and [Rock]

Vilkas - [Vill] as in 'village' and [Kuhss] as in 'puss' with a 'K'

Amoux - [Am] as in 'amber' and [oo] like 'coo'

Accalia - [Ah] as in 'apple' [Kay] as in 'okay' [Lee][Ah] as in 'apple'

Lupa - [Loo][Pah] as in 'patronising'

Hemming - [Hem] as in dress hem [Ing]

Ulric - [Ull] as in 'pull' [Rick]

Radulf - [Rah] as in 'ran' [Dulf] like 'wolf' with a 'd'

Shae: is pronounced 'shay' - sh [as in 'ship'] and ai [as in 'pain']

Eithne: is pronounced 'eth-nih' - eth [as in 'ethnic'] and ni [as in 'nib']

Adair - [Ah] like 'apple' [Dare] as in 'I dare you'

I think that's everyone. If any more characters pop up, I'll add their pronunciations in the chapter's author's notes :)


	13. Wisdom of Age

A/N: So someone drew attention to a line in the last chapter that could (and apparently was) taken offensively by some. Looking back at it, I can see how it would've been misunderstood and taken the wrong way. Please believe me when I say it wasn't meant that way. Lesson learned - don't finish editing at 2.30am, you miss big things like this. I've edited it now and apologise to anyone that was hurt/offended by it - it wasn't meant to display my view, Harry's or to hurt anyone. I hope that anyone that _was _offended can still enjoy the rest of the story. Apologies again.

Please bear in mind also that not every rape victim recovers the same or handles sexual relationships the same way afterward.

Thank you so much to every single reviewer, every word, no matter how small, means the world to me, especially when I've had a bad day. I feel so inspired by you all. And even if you don't review, thank you for reading and enjoying, I hope you continue to look forward to every Friday with me : )

* * *

.: Chapter Thirteen :.

Wisdom of Age

A wide yawn broke Harry's face for the fifth time that day. The sun was hot as it bore down on them and their slow progress across the grassy plains. Harry knew it was his fault, knew it was because of his discomfiture with their werewolf forms. They could've covered twice as much ground as wolves, but that didn't erase the fact that the thought of facing one of their bear-sized, powerful bodies made his limbs stiffen and blood curdle.

Tugging at his shirt collar he grunted, unbearably hot all of a sudden under the fur cloak and cumbersome clothing – despite the fact that he'd been freezing that morning. This hormonal, unstable temperature thing was ridiculous! Fenrir was marching up ahead bare-chested along with Marrok, while Raquelle wore a thin, lightweight blue fabric around her like a sarong (more to respect Harry's 'delicate sensibilities' than anything else Fenrir had said, reminding him that wolves had no qualms about nakedness like he did).

"Here," a husky, warm voice murmured. Harry jumped slightly, still not as comfortable with close proximity to others as he once was, but forced himself to relax as he stared up into Marrok's dark eyes. The black man smiled warmly down at him. "Let me carry your cloak and that for a bit," he said, holding his large hands out.

Harry looked up at him sheepishly. He didn't like weighing others down, letting others carry his load. It was for this same reason that he'd wanted to face Voldemort now, rather than later. He didn't want to be a burden to anyone. He could feel Fenrir watching him over his shoulder though and remembered his promise to allow them to help him (and so the baby) before they'd departed.

"Yeah, cheers," he said, stripping the usually comforting cloak from his shoulders and passing it into Marrok's arms. He paused, however as he undid the last button of the shirt he'd been wearing, hesitating when he'd been about to pull it off. He could feel all three of the werewolves watching him now as they continued to walk.

"Look, I know it's a human thing, and I haven't ever lived as a human – being a born wolf, but…" Marrok's voice trailed off as Harry met his eyes again. "It's just skin, right?" the dark man said at last, "you're only with us and we don't look at it the way humans do. You know?"

Harry frowned. "It's not so much that," he muttered, glancing up to see Fenrir staring determinedly ahead, conversing with Raquelle in a low voice that Harry couldn't quite make out, even with his improved senses. Then Harry looked down at the soft swell of his stomach, barely noticeable for what it was unless one knew. But he _did_ know, they all did and it wasn't something he wanted on display.

Following his gaze, realisation dawned on Marrok's face. "You don't want us to see the cub?" he asked. "It's normal, you know," Marrok continued and he pressed on as Harry opened his mouth to argue. "Not much is known about breeding subs since the last of them seemed to die out during the Ministry raids years ago. But I do know that you want to make yourself small, as unnoticeable as possible for the cub's sake." He gestured his head to Harry's stomach. "Not wanting to display that you're carrying is part of it. It's a cautionary instinct in you. Why do you think your belly isn't as big as a human's might be practically half way through the pregnancy?"

Harry did cringe then at the 'p' word, as well as the mention of his stomach's size. As soon as Fenrir had told him how far along he was in wolf terms he'd been pondering it. The infant and his stomach seemed really small and he'd been surprised to find himself worried that it was because of his scrawny stature and avoidance of Fenrir's (apparently necessary) touch. "So I'm – I mean _it _isn't too small?" he asked curiously.

Marrok smiled at him. "No. I'd say you were just right. You won't get too big anyway; it's just the nature of it, you know, to make it easier to hide from predators or whatnot. The cub won't be too big either, you'd be surprised how small big louts like me and the Alpha were when we were kids." They both glanced ahead to Fenrir, who was so determinedly not looking their way that Harry was sure he had heard them.

_Probably relieved I'm taking an interest in the thing, _Harry thought, having seen the unease in Fenrir's eyes. Harry had still not so much as gestured to it since their confrontation two days ago. In fact, Harry's only acknowledgement of it was to lay beside Fenrir by the fire now, with his belly pressed against Fenrir's back. It was a small step in a grander scheme of things.

Harry was still very unsure of what he felt about what was growing inside him, what to do with it, how to face it. His feelings toward Fenrir were even more confusing, but at least he knew one thing for certain, he'd felt like shit without him. What did that mean for his, Harry's future once all this was done?

They stopped on the edge of the forest that encircled the village of Shae. Fenrir had insisted it was a necessary pit stop before he took Harry to face Voldemort, though he had not elaborated on the why. Harry had been so relieved at his hard-won agreement to end this waiting game once and for all that he'd readily agreed to this condition.

When Fenrir Greyback finally agreed to what you wanted, you didn't mess about.

"We'll reach the village by nightfall," Raquelle assured Harry, handing him a large slab of the sweet bread Amoux had given him for the journey to keep up his strength between meals. Raquelle smiled as she stretched out on the ground near Harry, relaxing in the shade of the tree they'd stopped under. Marrok was the one talking to Fenrir in hushed tones now and Harry found it more than a little annoying. Fenrir had barely looked at him in two days and now this? What was he discussing in secret with his pack-mates?

"It's my fault we're taking so long, sorry about that," Harry said. Raquelle rolled over onto her belly on the ground and looked up at him. She was quite pretty and slender but in a way that spoke of strength too. Harry envied that strength. He could not feel more helpless right now if he tried.

"Don't be silly. I don't always get the chance to walk the land like this. I'm normally stuck behind watching the pack with Echo. Hemming and Lupa are the ones that usually accompany the Alpha to Shae."

Harry nodded. Yes, the two best fighters of the pack who were with Hermione and Ron right now – supposedly. He wondered how his two friends were right now. _I'll see them soon, _he reassured himself, only hoping he was right.

"Hey," Raquelle said chirpily, scrambling up to her knees so that their eyes were level (as Harry was sat on the ground leaning against the trunk of the tree). "You look knackered. Why don't you close your eyes for a bit before we take off?"

Harry didn't say anything for a moment. They'd stopped enough times on his account, on a quest that was all because of him. He'd never felt like such a nuisance, not since he'd lived with the Dursleys. "I'm not dying," Harry protested. "I can handle a bit of a walk." He'd not liked Fenrir insisting he needed to rest nearly every hour of this already drawn out journey either. He wasn't adjusting well to this route that Fenrir had insisted he walk down, the path of letting people take on his burdens for him.

Raquelle, far from perturbed by his mood sat up a little higher on her heels and smiled at him. "We care about you, we care about the cub. You're precious to us, a gift," she said and when Harry held her gaze without turning away awkwardly, her smile seemed to become slightly nervous. "What's it like?" she asked, all in a rush of breath as if ashamed of hearing it tumble from her lips. "You know…carrying a baby inside of you?" Her voice trailed off quietly at the end with a twist of longing and Harry felt like utter shit.

_I have something she and the others would kill to have, to feel, _he thought and licked his suddenly dry lips as he inhaled shakily. What was he meant to say to that? He winced as he recalled his behaviour over the last few months. He wanted to say he was sorry but he didn't think Raquelle would appreciate the pity that was certain to creep into his voice if he did.

He wasn't naïve, he knew there were many people out there who were valid in making the opposite choice to him. He knew that he probably wouldn't have been blamed for making the decision to get rid of it either. He hadn't made the decision _not _to get rid of it just to please them, or Fenrir for that matter. He'd made the decision for himself and yet he'd still been acting…

With a sigh, he realised that while his behaviour was justifiable, he didn't want to offend everyone else with it. He was finding swiftly that he was coming to actually care about _'it' _and that was unnerving him. He was taking that confusion out on everyone else, which was different to hating his lot in life and being bitter. He didn't feel bitter and he didn't hate it. He didn't want them to think he did, even if the notion scared him. They were only trying to show him he was cared about, after all, that he wasn't alone and only interested in something they could never have. Eventually, he gave a small, uneasy shrug.

"Physically I don't actually feel all that different to be honest," he admitted. "I don't feel it move or anything – if it does move that is. I'm not really sure how far it's meant to have developed since I'm nearly half way there now." He frowned and glanced down at his torso, which was covered again by his shirt. He had to admit it, he was more than a little concerned that he hadn't felt any movement at all yet.

"My skin is more sensitive," he said, trying to push the lingering unease from the forefront of his mind. He wasn't going to divulge which _parts _of him were particularly sensitive, however. "To be honest I feel bloated more than anything, like my stomach is full to capacity," he paused, momentarily wondering just _how _everything was fitting in his stomach, then added, "Sometimes I feel nauseous, otherwise I feel about the same."

Raquelle stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, her smile not waning. "I bet it will feel wonderful when it starts to move," she replied after a small awed silence, "though there's probably not room for it to move around much – you're still quite slim."

Once again Harry didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He was both fearful and anxious for it to happen. He couldn't imagine how he would feel. _Fucking terrified probably, _he thought, inhaling slowly. He was starting to feel a little bit sick now he thought of it. What if this thing came into the world and he still couldn't handle it?

"Does the Alpha touch it a lot?" she asked.

"He sits besides me," Harry said, his voice full of discomfiture. "Sometimes I sort of lean against him."

She blinked, but as with Marrok, seemed to understand. When she opened her mouth to respond, however, her voice was lost below Fenrir's as he and Marrok returned to their side.

"Chance might be nice," Fenrir muttered, looking down at the two of them, his eyes determinedly _not _lingering over Harry. That frown returned to Harry's brow as he struggled to his feet, he was getting sick of the alpha avoiding his gaze.

"_Some _people have personal boundaries," Harry snapped, "I don't see why I shouldn't be allowed my space just because you went and put something in my stomach. I don't want you pawing at me, alright?" He'd thought he'd been getting better, making progress but that evidently wasn't enough. He grit his teeth, moving back onto the invisible path through the forest they'd been treading towards the village. He was sick of being angry or afraid.

A grunt sounded from behind him, but Harry _felt _more than heard Fenrir catch up to him. He determinedly avoided looking away from the path straight ahead when the man fell into stride beside him. "Let me touch the cub," Fenrir murmured, for his ears only, "it might help your hormones, stop you being so bloody irritable."

Harry's entire body tensed. He grinded his teeth hard – they'd be worn away to stumps before he came to term. "I'm pissed off because of you, not because of the hormones," he replied shortly. Yes, they and the little lodger were part of what made him feel so unstable, but they weren't the reason he was angry now. Not entirely. "It doesn't need you _all _the time," he argued, "And I don't think someone whose been doing his best to avoid me the last two days deserves extras." He knew that phrasing sounded childish, but right now he didn't care.

Fenrir smirked. "Oh, I like touching for your sake as well as the cub's, pet, don't worry," he mused.

Harry glared at him out of the corner of his eye. "Fuck you," he snarled under his breath, hastening his steps. Logically, he knew he couldn't escape the werewolf but he thought it might let Fenrir know to back off. He thought wrong. A hand shot out and whirled him around to face his alpha. The motion shocked him. Aside from laying next to each other to sleep, the wolf hadn't touched him really at all the last two days.

"I'm sick of this attitude," Fenrir snapped.

"And I'm sick of you avoiding me and having hushed conversations behind my back!" Harry retorted, temporarily forgetting their audience. Now he'd gotten to this point he just _needed _to boil over.

Fenrir took a step away from him, as if being in his proximity right then was far too great a test for his temper. "We're out here on our way to face the fucking _Dark Lord _because _you _wanted to! You're getting what you asked for, what more do you want?!" he roared, turning to walk on ahead.

"I want you to look at me!" Harry bit back, freezing the alpha in his steps. "If you're pissed off because you're having to do something you didn't want to in order to make good of your promises then say so. Tell me what you're problem is, don't whisper behind my back like I'm a child who can't take the bloody truth!"

"My problem is you're making me lead you into danger when everything in me screams to keep you both safe! I can't stand to look at you right now."

"Because you have to do something you don't want to," Harry began, but Fenrir's raised voice cut him off.

"Because it makes me want to drag you back home and keep you there, even if it makes you hate me even more than you do now!"

Those words made Harry freeze, along with everything else in the forest it seemed. He stared up into those ice-blue eyes; dark with anger but also a flicker of the same fear Harry was far too familiar with. The fear of losing everyone – everything. Harry inhaled, preparing for speech but before he could find words, Fenrir cut him off, his voice harsh and coarse as ever.

"And I'm still undeserving of touching my child," Fenrir growled darkly, it was a statement not a question. He took a step forward to stare down at Harry, as if challenging him to agree to those words. Harry felt his body tingle with instinctive unease at being towered over in his condition but raised his chin defiantly, not moving back.

"I shouldn't have said that," Harry began, his voice unwavering. That'd been wrong of him to say that. But he was so frustrated and…

"You know what your problem is?" Fenrir growled, his voice low again, for Harry's ears only. "You haven't let me touch you in over two months. You need a good fuck and you're angry and uptight because you don't know how to admit it."

Harry's face flushed beet red, but before he could think of a reply, Fenrir had marched on ahead, leaving him, Raquelle and Marrok to catch up.

The sun was low on the horizon when they crossed the boundaries into Shae. Some villagers were still out and about, finishing up their tasks of the day and all inclined their heads in respect to them as they passed. Harry watched them curiously. He had been drunk on the moon the last time he'd been here and had not had chance to register how respected Fenrir was here. Not feared or hated, as he would have been in the wizarding world.

_Which is one of the reasons he hates it so much,_ Harry thought, staring thoughtfully at the back of the man's head as they walked. The last few months his previous image of Fenrir Greyback had been shattered. The man was far from innocent and chivalrous, but he definitely wasn't what the wizarding world had painted to be. _But neither am I, _he thought.

Slowly, he increased his stride to fall into pace beside Fenrir and glanced up at him. He hadn't spoken for a while now, not even to the others. "Why did you insist on coming here before we go to _Him_ anyway?" Harry asked, he still hadn't been able to figure that out.

Fenrir didn't look at him when he answered. "An elder relation is meant to bless the cub," he explained stiffly. "When I was born I was blessed by my entire family, this is the best we can do."

Harry heard the bitterness in his voice and not all of it was because of him. He felt the same loss and resentment in having lost his family too. It was not the first time in the last few months he wondered what his parents would've said if they'd been presented with his child – whether it was Fenrir's or not. But he would never know – Voldemort had stolen that from him.

"At least you still have your grandmother, that's something at least," Harry said thoughtfully. He felt Fenrir glance down at him then, but did not meet his gaze.

"The blessing is meant to ensure good health and an easy birth," Fenrir said, some of the bite gone from his voice. Harry was sure that wasn't what the man had wanted to say, but the mention of the looming 'birth' made him pale. It was far too soon in coming and the notion terrified him for many reasons.

Before long they reached the familiar large single story home with the arched doorway. The door opened to them before they even attempted to knock. The familiar warm face framed by shining silver curls stared back at them. Ice-blue eyes (the same as Fenrir's) considered them for a moment, before the elderly woman stepped back, silently beckoning the small group inside. On crossing the threshold, Harry's gaze was caught by her and she smiled comfortingly, _knowingly _at him.

"You visited but a few days ago, when you did your last hunt," Eithne said as she closed the door, gesturing with her hand for them all to take a seat. There were a few well-worn but comfortable arm chairs around the fire. Harry gingerly sat in one, his back and legs aching from their long trek. Marrok came to stand behind him while Raquelle took the second chair. Fenrir stood with his back to them all, his hands resting on the mantel piece, gazing into the fire.

"Don't play games, you know we're here for Harry's blessing, old woman," Fenrir grumbled without turning to face them. Harry winced at his tone but Eithne simply smiled diligently, as if he had called her by the sweetest pet name and took the final chair by the fire, directly opposite Harry. There was an unspoken adoration between her and Fenrir, the kind that was all the sweeter for being silent. It was the same sort of affection that flowed between him and Remus, Harry thought, his chest tightening slightly as he thought of the old wolf. Tonks would've had her baby by now, he thought. Did she get through it ok? Did the baby?

Movement from the old woman snapped him from his thoughts. She was leaning forward in her chair, her kind, worldly eyes surveying him as the flickering firelight was reflected in them. "I couldn't help my son much when he gave birth," she began, "werewolf births are different, but I _was_ there when he had Fenrir and the triplets–"

"Triplets?!" Harry gasped before he could stop himself. He thought he heard Raquelle chuckle good-naturedly at the horror in his voice.

Eithne continued to smile. "It's not very common in the stronger blood-lines. Werewolves are stronger than mere canines and so do not need to produce as many young at one time, but it has happened. My son had Fenrir, then the triplets (two boys and a girl) and then another boy." She looked at Harry carefully then. "You still find it odd to speak about men and birth in the same instance," she observed.

Harry felt uncomfortable now. He knew he was still ignorant and easily surprised with the ways of wolves, but how could he be anything else given the circumstances? "Yeah, I s'pose," he began. "To be honest I've still not really come to terms with the fact that _I'm…_well, I'm having a bloody baby and have to give birth and sooner than I thought too." His voice was slightly higher than he would've liked, but no one commented on it.

Eithne leant forward, capturing his hands with his. Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't allowed such a touch in so long.

"It is the unknown you fear more than anything else," the old woman said in her dulcet voice. "What if you can't do it? What if you can't accept this child? What if there are more? What if something happens to them, or you, or your pack? What if the people you love die while _He _is at large, while you are still indisposed?"

Harry stared at her, wondering how he was so easily read and saw Fenrir's entire body tense out of the corner of his eye. The man still did not turn to face them, but Marrok and Raquelle were watching silently and Harry felt suddenly awkward that they had heard all of his worst fears spoken so plainly. His lips worked soundlessly for a few moments in vain, before the old woman spoke for him.

"I can help assuage a few of those fears of yours, at least erase some of the unknown, but the rest you must trust my grandson to aid you in," she said softly and slid forward onto her knees with the fluidity of a woman half her age. Harry stiffened in the chair as she released his hands. He knew what she was about to do and he didn't know if he could allow it.

Fenrir turned slowly now to face them, leaning on the mantle with one arm as he stared into Harry's eyes. The light was dwindling outside, Harry could see that through the windows and the fire cast a warm glow over Fenrir's form as he held that gaze. The man wouldn't make him do it, but he wanted him to and for the first time, Harry did something purely to ease the tension from the alpha wolf's body. He relaxed back into the chair (or tried to) as Eithne carefully reached for his stomach. He could not help but flinch as her long-fingered slender hands moved his shirt up out of the way, however.

"You know, you're more like a spooked tiger than a wolf," she mused, holding his gaze. He said nothing, mostly because he wanted to remind them all that he wasn't a bloody werewolf, but he didn't want to be rude. He merely grit his teeth as her warm hands touched his bare stomach. "You need to have more contact with Fenrir, bare skin on skin is best during the pregnancy – you are a little too cool to the touch," Eithne said, looking at his only slightly rounded stomach. It didn't even look like a bump really and Harry half expected her to comment on that, despite Marrok's assurance that his size was normal.

The old woman's brow furrowed with concentration then and the soft pads of her fingers traced Harry's stomach, pressing gently. "Tell me if I cause you discomfort," she said, before pressing a little more firmly. She was circling a particular area of his flesh at a time now, pushing harder here and there, moving her palm up into his stomach. Whatever she was doing, it was taking forever.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, but he said nothing so Eithne did not stop, engrossed in her task. It felt unnatural to leave himself so open to a potential attack, as well as embarrassing for all eyes were on him now. Cautiously, he peered up from under his lashes to where Fenrir stood. The man was watching them with a platonic hunger in his piercing blue eyes. The wolf had been avoiding his presence and gaze because he was scared of losing both him and the baby, because he didn't want to break his promises to Harry due to that fear.

_But he's looking at you now, _a voice whispered at the back of Harry's mind. He dampened his suddenly dry lips with his tongue. He was afraid of the touch on his stomach right now, it didn't make him shudder and cringe as it might have. It was uncomfortable and he'd rather it was over but he could bear it. Why couldn't he bear it so Fenrir could touch it too?

_He's earned that much¸ _Harry thought. But what about what Fenrir had eluded to earlier? Harry winced, he didn't think he could bear much more touching than this, much less _fucking _at the moment. It was too soon, whether his body wanted it or not.

At that moment, Eithne sat back slightly, looking him in the eyes, snapping him from his thoughts. "Well, it might either disappoint or relieve you to know that you're carrying only one child, young one," she said. A sharp rush of relief rushed up through Harry's stomach and out through his mouth as a low, deep sigh – like a sudden breeze and he gave her a small, nervous smile.

"Thanks," he said quietly, stunned to silence. He didn't think he was ready for a child, that he could accept it, but at least it was just one…

"Those born alone are said to be the strongest," Raquelle said thoughtfully, watching Harry with awe still. Harry didn't resent her looking, he knew what it meant to female werewolves now and would gladly bear the discomfort if it helped them to assuage their yearning somewhat.

"I expected no less," Eithne said, removing one of her hands and delving into the pouch attached to her side. When the hand returned, her fingers were covered with a dark, glistening powder. It looked like muggle glitter, Harry thought, a dark gold in colour and shining with the firelight as it was brought up close to his face.

"Would you like me to bless you both, child?" Eithne asked him, _him _rather than Fenrir. He appreciated that in itself, enough to nod his head and accept the uncomfortable tingling that radiated through his skin as the glitter was smudged across his forehead. It was the same upwards, horizontal arch that he dimly recalled Fenrir painting across his skin in blood that night under the moon, Harry was sure of it.

"With the oath to shield, shelter and protect," Eithne began in a voice almost otherworldly. At first the blessing seemed to be an echo of what Fenrir had once whispered to him in a much more intimate setting, but then it seemed to change slightly. "The spirits of our blood, both living and dead watch over you," the woman continued, painting a glittering arc over each of his cheeks. "Deliver to us both of you in good health and strength." An identical arc graced his flesh just above his navel.

Harry's skin was tingling hotly, but not unpleasantly under the glittering marks now and he felt on odd, tiny fluttering, like butterfly wings in his stomach. He blinked and then Eithne's hand pushed his shirt aside to cover the skin above his heart with the glistening concoction. He wanted to ask what was in it, but he didn't know if speaking ruined the ritual blessing. His hands gripped the arms of the chair as the tingling intensified. It wasn't painful but it was startling. He gasped. That fluttering feeling in his stomach hadn't gone either.

Then at last, a final mark was dragged around to encircle his mating mark. "Go forward with this blessing of life and find joy." With that Eithne stepped back, taking her seat again in the chair opposite. Harry stared at her. He still felt the tingling. It was so hot now that he reached up to check if his skin was burning, but before he could touch it, Fenrir caught his wrist.

"Let me finish the blessing," he muttered, kneeling in front of him. Harry just nodded, not knowing what else to do. Everyone was still watching him and now Fenrir was leaning up, licking the powder from his forehead and his cheeks. Harry stiffened as the wolf moved lower, those azure eyes locked with his as the man's mouth hovered over his stomach. It wasn't sexual in the slightest yet still embarrassing. But here was Fenrir, silently asking for permission to continue and that notion in itself made Harry give the slightest of nods.

A wet, hot tongue cleaned his stomach too, before Fenrir moved up to touch his lips to his throat. "And I will be with you both, always," the alpha said, low but clear, completing the ritual by lapping away the last mark and sitting back.

The tingling in Harry's skin was gone now, as was the light outside. While Harry stared at Fenrir who remained kneeling at his feet, Eithne stood and began lighting the lamps to bring some more light to the room. Harry did not realise until later, when his mind was clear, that she had confirmed his suspicions that she was a witch by lighting the lanterns with a wand.

"Well done, both of you," she said as she brought a large lamp over to the table that sat near the chairs, but Harry did not look at her, could not look away from Fenrir, even as the woman continued to speak. "From what I felt and sensed, your child is in good health. Small, but then as I recall all werewolf cubs are. I can tell you what I know about my son's births if you like my boy and that may help you even further?"

Harry did realise she was speaking to him, but it was a distant knowledge, one he did not act on. He watched as Fenrir seemed to mull something over in his mind, seemed to be verging on speech before he looked down to Harry's stomach and winced. He reached forwards, fastening Harry's shirt back up before getting to his feet.

"That stuff tastes like crap, Eithne," he griped.

"The most beneficial magic always tastes the worst," the old woman said with a smile. "It's the same recipe as the batch I made with your father's mother for _your_ blessing."

Fenrir nodded, making his way over to the door. "Marrok, stay with Harry while me and Raquelle sort out business," he ordered and without a single glance back, he headed out the door, Raquelle close behind.

Harry stared at the door, shocked, angry and confused. Pulling his shirt back closed around himself, he focused on fastening the buttons once more to put off the moment when he would have to meet the eyes of those remaining in the room. Not only did he feel awkward after what had just happened, humiliated and a little lost that Fenrir had just abandoned him after such an invasive act but also…

He winced. A pang of jealousy lanced his chest on watching Raquelle disappear after him. He didn't like it, especially as he knew his feelings had no foundation. He liked the severity of which it bothered him even less. Maybe it _was_ hormones or instincts. Why else would he care?

"He's quite taken with you, my grandson," Eithne said with a smile after a long silence. Harry wanted to snort at that, but politeness helped him to remain quiet. Eithne glanced to the now closed door Fenrir and Raquelle had left through, looking thoughtful as she spoke. "Had he not responsibilities of protector to attend to, I doubt he would leave your side."

Harry blinked at her, lost for words. And with the next words to leave her mouth, he swore she was reading his mind.

"He is strengthening the magic that protects the borders," she explained. It was likely meant as a reassurance to the jealousy that was apparently obvious on Harry's face, but it only inspired more confusion.

Harry's brow furrowed further. "Why? Haven't they held for decades?" he asked warily, "Fenrir made it sound like they would last forever. Due to the ritual that was used to create them or something."

Eithne nodded slowly. "They will, but he is strengthening them regardless." The unspoken 'why' lay between them for but a few milliseconds before her aged lips parted in speech once more around an answer. "He thinks he is going to die."

Harry gasped – or more accurately choked as if a large fist had just closed around his throat. Fenrir thought he was going to die? It was impossible. Losing his parents so young, Harry had always seen life as fragile, always known how easily he could lose someone he loved, but Fenrir… No. To him, Fenrir was invincible somehow. Him and death didn't fit together in the same sentence.

"Because of me?" Harry whispered, more to himself than as a question. A firm hand gripped his shoulder though and Marrok answered him regardless.

"No," he ensured him. "All of our lives are in danger because of Tergarletum, not you. We would have been threatened whether you were here or not. That brute threatens any who could oppose him." He squeezed Harry's shoulder firmly. "The Alpha feels responsible for this village, for the pack and for you, he feels like he needs to prepare for the worst. Even more so with his instincts running on such a high from your condition."

Harry winced. Fenrir, die? No. He wouldn't allow it. His muscles bunched to rise from the chair, to follow after the wolf and knock some sense into him, but Eithne had grasped both his hands in hers and stilled him with a peculiar look in her eyes. He'd seen it only a few times in the eyes of Mrs Weasley and Sirius but could not quite give a name to it.

"Shae was headstrong and protective, brave like you," she said with a sad little smile. "It was hard for him to adjust to life as a wolf but he had a long time to adjust, far longer than you've had. You remind me a lot of him, I think Fenrir sees him in you as well."

Harry blinked at her, not really knowing what to say to that. He moistened his dry lips again. He was still almost shaking with the thought that by dragging them to Voldemort, he might be bringing Fenrir to his death. "_Did _he adjust to it? I mean how did he handle being subject to his instincts and…_getting pregnant_? Giving _birth_?"

Eithne nodded. "Yes. He had time to adjust to it all before he had his children of course, which is why things are much more difficult with you." She glanced down to his stomach and Harry inhaled deeply, as if preparing to step into battle. But she didn't touch him again.

"You will adjust, you will be happy, I think you can feel the possibility to be happy already, can you not?" the old woman asked, her ice-blue eyes penetrating his very thoughts.

"I don't know," Harry replied hesitantly, feeling unease radiating from the black wolf behind him. His happiness was so important to these people, much more than he'd ever thought it would be when he first awoke in Fenrir's charge. And he only just realised how important their happiness, their safety and health was to him.

"Fenrir was forced to grow up very quickly after seeing his family butchered like cattle before his very eyes," Eithne said darkly, her voice cracking slightly with bitterness, the same way Fenrir's did when he spoke about this loss. She squeezed his hands almost painfully tight in her grasp. "He hasn't been able to express his affection easily since that day, and like you, has feared opening himself up completely lest he lose everything all over again. Can you not see it in his eyes? He fears losing you just as he lost them."

Harry shook his head, pulling his hands gently from hers. "He's afraid of losing the baby–"

"And you think a man as proud and stubborn as him would be walking straight into the trap of He Who Must Not Be Named'shouse, making himself vulnerable for anyone other than someone he truly cared for?" Eithne reasoned, looking at him knowingly for a few moments, before lifting her gaze up to Marrok, silent and still as stone behind Harry. "Fetch me that box from the shelf on the far right, would you Marrok?" she asked, lifting her voice slightly, apparently putting an end to that subject for now.

The dark-skinned man obediently brought the box to her, sliding it into her wizened yet steady hands as she pulled her chair closer to Harry before lowering herself into it. "My boy gave me this when his youngest grew out of it," she said, flicking open the ornate clasps that held the small chest closed. It was about the same size as the dreaded _Monster Book of Monsters_, only much more inert and handsome in its time-kissed appearance.

"I made it for my son when he was born from the softest materials known to wizardkind," Eithne continued, the firelight making her silver curls glow dazzlingly in the softly lit room. "I repaired it and made it anew when he had Fenrir and now it must pass to you and your little one." She drew from the chest a folded cloth and gave it a flick to open it up.

The fabric fluttered open as if carried by a small breeze, about half the size of a single sheet but light, delicate. Yet somehow Harry could tell it was strong. It was a rich creamy colour and in the top right corner near where Eithne held it, he saw the image of a wolf beautifully embroidered in gold and silver thread. The image glistened in the firelight, with all the ethereal beauty of Fenrir's fur when he transformed under the moon.

Harry stared from the swaddling cloth to its maker, taken aback. He, who had so few things from his parents, so few heirlooms knew how precious something so loved and special must be. "I…I can't take that," he began.

Eithne shook her head, pressing the re-folded blanket into his hands without preamble. It was softer than vicuna, cashmere and silk all at once but stronger and light but warm all at once as he held it in his hands. This was made with love for Fenrir's dad (mum, whatever he was considered to be) and now it was coming to him? To the baby inside him he was still so unsure of.

"Keep it close to both you and Fenrir over the next few months, then when the babe is born it'll be able to smell the both of you on it," she explained, watching him carefully. Before Harry could even begin to protest, she continued. "Now I can tell you what I know about what you can expect. As far as I could tell with Shae, instincts take care of a lot of it for you when the time comes…"

* * *

The moon had risen and sunk lower in the dark sky and still Harry had not fallen asleep. Eithne's cottage had two bedrooms, her own and one that was once Fenrir's dad's (mum's, whatever). The room Harry had stayed in once before, the same room Fenrir had tried to leave him in on that full moon night was where he now rested. Harry was laying on the same bed, staring out of the open shutters into the night sky, illuminated by a hundred stars it seemed.

He felt hot again despite wearing only his shirt and so the duvet was only draped over the lower half of his body, resting just on his hip. But the other side of the bed was cold. Raquelle had returned a short while before he'd retired to this room, but Fenrir had not. The house was quiet now, Raquelle and Marrok asleep before the hearth, Eithne in her room and the entire village silently slumbering. Fenrir was still not back.

The irrational anger and fear from earlier was rising its ugly head again, spurred by his frustration. Where was he? He didn't like to think he felt abandoned, it sounded silly but he did. The bastard had said enough times that they were in this together, hadn't he? But where was he now? With a growl of irritation, Harry grit his teeth, fighting the urge to swing himself out of bed and go looking for him. He wasn't going to go chasing after him.

No sooner had he thought this, however than the slightest sound of movement reached his ears. He stilled, listening hard and a shadow fell over the window, his final warning before Fenrir's large form hauled itself over the sil. With a low grunt, the man turned and closed the shutters, turning to face him. There was a lamp glowing at the beside that illuminated the room just enough for Harry to see his pensive expression.

"Left the window open by means of invitation, pet?" the alpha murmured.

Harry scoffed quietly, rolling onto his back but scooting over to the other side, silently letting him know he was ok with sharing the bed. He was more than ok with it, actually. His skin was practically _itching _with the need to feel that warmth pressed against his own. His chest was tight. He was lonely without Fenrir's closeness, both mental and physical.

After a moment, he felt the bed dip under the man's weight and Fenrir slid in beside him.

Harry's body physically relaxed, he could _just _feel Fenrir's heat against his side and yet his mind was still reeling. Moistening his lips, he fought to find words. "You know I'm strong, right?" he settled on at last, staring up at the darkness above them, and the shadowy patterns the single lamp cast on the ceiling. When Fenrir said nothing, he continued. "Wand or no wand, I can do stuff – yes it's unintentional but it comes when it matters."

Rolling onto his side, Harry sat up slightly to look down at the werewolf's softly lit face. Those blue eyes was staring up at him, glistening. "You saw what I did at the waterfall that day – I saved you from Radulf and if it comes to it, I'll do it again," Harry insisted. "I won't let _Him_ kill you." He'd never been particularly loquacious, never really found the right words at the right time but for once his chosen phrasing did as intended. It got a reaction out of Fenrir.

The alpha snarled, shoving Harry backwards on the bed, his hands pinning Harry's shoulders to the pillows as he hovered over him. Harry stared back at him, unyielding, not caring that the man was as naked as the day he was born, that didn't matter now (although he did flush a little). The wolf was angry that his sub felt the need to protect him.

"It's my job to look after you right now," Fenrir growled huskily, his fingers tightening on Harry's shoulders slightly.

"Surely we're meant to look after each other?" Harry countered in irritation. "You won't let him touch me and I won't let him hurt you either, so you have nothing to worry about! Nothing to go moping about in the dark all night. Nothing to make you keep distancing yourself from me!" His voice was harsh and forceful despite its low whispered tone.

"We're not going to charge the manor doors in the name of war tomorrow," Harry continued, more calmly this time. "We just need him to see me broken, to see that I'm no threat so we have the freedom to go find Ron and Hermione and…make sure the time is right to finish him. I don't know if Ron and Hermione have…you know, gotten everything ready without me but we can't make a move to eliminate _Him _until everything is in place. You just need to show me as some broken, submissive whelp. That's all."

Fenrir snorted. "_That's all,_" he repeated bluntly. "The world knows it's impossible to break you, you'll have to be a very good actor."

Harry blinked. Somehow that seemed almost like a compliment. "_We _will need to be. We're in this together, aren't we?" he asked, though the question was stated more like a challenge.

Above him, Fenrir leant down to rest his forehead against Harry's. Still staring into his eyes he breathed him in again, drawing in the very breath tumbling over Harry's lips into his own mouth. An indirect kiss that seemed to calm him. His heat made the tightness in Harry's chest ease. But the body above was still tense and anxious, angry at that anxiety among other things. Why didn't he have the power to alleviate some of that, as Fenrir seemed to with him?

Closing his eyes briefly, Harry exhaled slowly. "Nothing is going to happen to us," he said softly, his voice a barely there whisper. When he opened his eyes again, Fenrir's stare gripped him.

"No," the wolf said sharply. "It won't." He pushed off slightly then to rest back on his heels between Harry's legs, staring down at him without really seeing him – lost to his thoughts. That was until Harry shifted up onto his elbows, the action dragging his shirt up to reveal more than Harry intended. Harry flushed darkly as he saw those ice-blue eyes fix on his body and snapped his legs shut. But it wasn't his nether regions those eyes were drawn to (for once) and he knew it.

Not for the first time that night, he drew in a breath as one might take before diving off a platform or into a battle. It was him that held that gaze unwaveringly this time as he said, "you can touch it if you want."

Those dazzling azure eyes pierced the darkness as they widened. "Why?" the man asked, his voice low and rough as ever.

Harry moistened his suddenly dry lips. "Because you want to."

A long pause then; "Why does that matter now?" Fenrir muttered, as if trying to conceal the bitterness in his voice.

Harry fought the urge to shuffle back further up the bed, he did however shift his shirt down to give him some more dignity without the need to hold his knees up to his barely convex stomach. "Because even though I didn't want this-" he grit his teeth. No, that wasn't the way to start. "I know this wasn't your fault, neither of you," he rushed out quickly before Fenrir could interrupt. "I know that but I've been acting like it is, been punishing you and _it_ – I've been an arsehole. Despite the fact that every inch of you is screaming _not _to take me to _Him _you're doing it anyway because I asked. Fair is fair."

It took a while for Fenrir to process his words it seemed. As the words slowly dawned on him, his eyes visibly studied Harry's face and then his concealed stomach in turn. Harry thought he might argue still but was surprised when the man shifted, glancing up a final time as if for ultimate permission before letting his large hot palm rest on Harry's stomach.

Harry could feel his heat through the cloth of his shirt and stiffened, partly because someone was touching him intimately for the first time in months but also because that heat sent a little ripple of pleasure through his skin. The warmth of another body made his belly tingle. It wasn't just the…_the baby _either. His eyes fluttered closed and he drew in a quick breath. He'd thought he could bear this, he was wrong. He could do more than that. Despite his remaining issues, despite the uneasiness that swept through him even now at being touched, he'd missed it.

After a moment or two passed like this, both of them silent, Harry moistened his dry lips again, staring up at Fenrir uncertainly from under his lashes. He was unnerved by the man's lack of speech. Normally he was almost painfully expressive, now he was unreadable. "It's not very big," Harry said, wondering if that was the cause for the silence and the curious contemplation on that rugged face.

At last those eyes snapped to him and he thought he saw the barest flicker of a smile reflected there. A knowing smile that never quite reached those lips. "It won't be," Fenrir murmured. "You won't get noticeably big, and the cub will be born small but strong, that's always the way." His large hand splayed a little more then, moving slightly as those eyes focussed on Harry's. "I'm encouraged that you're concerned," he said simply.

Harry frowned, but anything he was about to say was cut short by Fenrir's words.

"And I like that you missed me."

That frown intensified into a scowl, but there was no menace behind it and Fenrir must have sensed that, for he leant down to press his forehead against Harry's own. His hand remained on his stomach, rubbing in soft, barely there gestures. He stared into Harry's eyes that refused to surrender and look away. "I can sense it. There's no shame in admitting it, you know. There's no one to hear you but me."

_That's the bloody point! _Harry thought, not knowing what to do. What had happened still made him flinch when he thought about it. He hadn't wanted this, didn't know how to feel about the growing warmth he felt toward the precious thing Fenrir's hand was touching so gently. But he'd never felt such bliss inside him, so safe or wanted as he did now.

Screwing his eyes shut for courage, Harry snarled in answer, shoving his head up and wrapping his arms around Fenrir's neck. He slammed his lips to Fenrir's, a feral grunt reverberating from his tongue and into that mouth as it opened to greet him.

It felt far too submissive, far too _pathetic _to simply lie there and admit it. He would show him. He would abolish the meek creature he had been for the last few weeks from both of their memories. He was stronger than that. He had to be.

Grunting again into the kiss, he tugged roughly on the man's hair, demanding and fierce in his claiming of that mouth. Fenrir growled back, his large hands seizing Harry's face and pulling him up higher into their embrace. His own tongue lapped hungrily at Harry's like a man starved, his teeth grazing the tip and Harry's mouth until the young man felt it grow hot and swollen against those stubble-framed lips.

"Oh, you missed me alright," Fenrir murmured huskily, dragging his mouth down to suck and bite Harry's jaw, even as Harry fought to capture him in another kiss. When Fenrir's hands slid up to knot in Harry's hair to hold him still, allowing him to taste the fleshy lobe of Harry's ear. Harry shoved him back, hard on the bed until they were both upright.

Fenrir almost felt himself salivating at the sight of him. His eyes were bright in the darkness, his lips and face flushed and his body shaking slightly with his ragged breath. He wanted him so badly, a desire that was intensified by the defiance burning harshly in those eyes. The same kind of flame that had danced there when he had first seen him bleeding to death at Voldemort's feet.

He almost laughed to himself then. If Voldemort thought _anyone _could break this boy, he was a fool. He would die before he ever bowed under another's will, before he surrendered. At that thought, Fenrir made to lunge to grab him again but Harry's glare intensified and he held him back at arm's length.

"You can tease me," Harry began slowly, "You can chase me, you can even fuck me, but I'm not the submissive whippet that Conall and the others think I am. I won't lay back and just accept your will. If you ever try to make me into something I'm not, you'll never touch me again." His voice was calm and low, but full of menacing threat. It was a threat that made Fenrir's wolf howl with dread inside him.

After a few moments of silence, Harry's hands lost their force where they had been holding him back at his shoulders and slid down slowly. As they fell, Fenrir caught them both and hauled him close until Harry was straddling his thighs. Their noses were but a scant centimetre apart and those green eyes stared down at him cautiously, as if uncertain how he would answer.

"I've never wanted you to be what those mutts wanted," Fenrir grunted. "The only thing I wanted to change was to make you accept and take what you want for once in your bloody life, to put yourself first and let someone else be the hero. To let me provide and protect as I swore to do under the moon–"

"Is that all?" Harry muttered with a hint of sarcasm, pushing half-heartedly to escape Fenrir's embrace. But when Fenrir released him immediately, Harry looked surprised and did not move from where he knelt in the man's lap.

Fenrir smirked, but his tone was deadly serious when his hands traced the lean muscle at the back of the boy's thighs and he murmured, "Aside from that, there's nothing I would change." His fingers slipped up just under the hem of the boy's long shirt, claws scraping his buttocks gently. "I want you as you are with the cheek, the pride and the shitty attitude – all of it. It's all mine – _you _are mine."

He could not help but notice the shudder than ran up his mate's spine at that point. He grinned in the darkness and chased the spasm with the very tips of his claws, caressing the sinewy muscles of Harry's back and taking his shirt (the final barrier between their flesh) with it. He tugged it off the boy's head before leaning in and claiming that mouth with a kiss of his own, just as demanding and possessive but this time slower, full of need.

Harry groaned, welcoming his tongue beyond his lips. His fingers curled into fists, clawing at Fenrir's chest as his body arched forward into him, before sagging as if in relief in his embrace. Their lips still locked, Fenrir growled softly as he teased that tongue, earning a small almost-purr from that mouth. He grazed those lips and that chin with his own lips, that jaw, the soft curve of an ear.

"Don't starve me of you like that again," Fenrir grunted in his ear, nipping the lobe before dropping bristly, hungry kisses down the column of Harry's throat. His fingers scraped those buttocks as his teeth mimicked the motion over Harry's collarbone. Harry tensed and not entirely in arousal. Pausing in the perusal of his mate's flesh, Fenrir drew back a fraction to meet those eyes questioningly. He smelled fear.

"I don't know if I can…" Harry began quietly, chewing the inside of his mouth in an attempt to mask his anxiety. "Not _that _anyway, not …" He shuddered, but when he shifted as if to slide back off Fenrir's thighs, Fenrir held him tight. Harry added, "It reminds me of…well, you know."

Fenrir stared up at him in a rare thoughtful moment. He had to be so cautious with Harry sometimes, it was still quite novel to him, having to think before his spoke, having to consider another's feelings. "The wolf and I are the same, but one is driven purely by instinct rather than..._consideration _for you," he winced as he struggled to find that word and saw Harry raise a brow as if he _knew _what word he was about to say.

"I know," Harry said quietly, putting his hands on Fenrir's shoulders but not pushing away again – not yet. "I know you wouldn't have done that to me, not without my consent anyway. I _do _realise that, you know."

Fenrir wanted to scratch the back of his neck to hide his awkwardness. Those green eyes were dazzling in the darkness and staring down into his very soul. Like no one had before. "So I won't fuck you–"

"Not _yet_," Harry said quickly, seeming uncharacteristically concerned about that.

Fenrir smirked. "No, not until I earn it – or the wolf does, however you want to see it. Doesn't mean I can't show you some _consideration_."

Harry hissed hungrily, unknowingly shoving his arse back and tightening his fingers into the sheets. His legs tensed and his toes curled. God he'd missed this, missed _him_. Harry was so relieved that what had happened hadn't ruined sex for him entirely that he felt everything heightened.

*****CENSORED. FOR FULL SCENE PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE*****

Fenrir gripped him hard, tugging their sweaty bodies back to the bed, Harry lying limply atop Fenrir's collapsed form. Their chests heaved breathlessly and Harry was so far out of it that he jumped slightly when Fenrir's hand smoothed his damp fringe back from his forehead.

"Sorry," Harry murmured tiredly as he tipped his head back to look up, barely able to form coherent words, "spaced out a bit there." Fenrir was staring down at him as if thoughtful. Not knowing what else to say to that expression, Harry lay his head back down, listening to the sound of the wolf's heart gradually slowing down to normal. "Was good," he murmured against that slightly damp skin, closing his eyes as he waited for his own breathing and heart rate to slow again. _I've missed it, _he thought, not daring to speak it aloud. _I've missed feeling close to him._

"Mmm," Fenrir agreed huskily, rolling them slightly so that Harry was on his side and Fenrir was spooned against his back. Harry stretched leisurely at the feel of that nose pressing at the nape of his neck, sniffing him. His head was rested on Fenrir's arm, the hand on which was just brushing through his hair slowly. He was about to close his eyes again when he felt his mate's other hand glide over his hip to rest flat on his naked belly.

Fenrir didn't ask permission this time. Fenrir Greyback was not the kind of man to ask permission, that he had earlier was no mean feat; now it seemed he knew it was unnecessary. They'd gone past that. Harry wasn't afraid of him or of acknowledging what grew beneath his palm either, not really. He was scared to death but that didn't make it go away in the end, he knew that. He couldn't avoid the issue any longer.

_And Fenrir feels so happy, _he thought, the warmth practically radiating from that hand on his stomach. He stretched leisurely, pressing back into the heat of Fenrir's body. The nose at the back of his neck nuzzled in closer, drinking in his scent.

"You smell better when you're happy – well, _happier_," Fenrir murmured into his hair, his hand moving in the slightest of circles on his bare stomach. Beneath it, a small fluttering sensation swelled. They both froze. Harry flushed darkly and shifted awkwardly.

"Errr, sorry," he said, "I ate a lot earlier and… Well you're a bloke too–!"

"It's not wind you prat it's the cub – can't you tell the difference?" Fenrir cut across him, his voice coarse but low in his ear as he leant up slightly to look down at where his hand lay on Harry's stomach. "Maybe it senses you're in a good mood for a change," he mused.

Harry snorted, lowering his own hand tentatively to rest alongside Fenrir's. "This is weird," he muttered, the odd fluttering movement shifting under his own palm now too. "If I weren't so tired I'd run screaming for the hills." He was only part joking. The way Fenrir's palm tensed beside his told him that he knew it.

"I'd chase after you," Fenrir growled softly, "There's nowhere you can run to that I wouldn't follow." He paused a moment, sliding his fingers down a fraction on Harry's stomach to entwine them with Harry's own. The smaller man froze for a moment before relaxing again. He could _smell _the blush suffusing those cheeks with colour and smirked against the back of the boy's neck.

"I know it must be odd, seeing as you only knew this was possible a few months ago – given everything else that's weighing on your shoulders but you'll be alright." He pressed in tight against Harry's back, sniffing him again. "When all this shit with _Him _is done, we'll only have ourselves to please."

There was a small silence, then…

"I don't think I know what would please me anymore," Harry murmured, quiet and confused but Fenrir swore his fingers tightened around Fenrir's on his stomach.

Fenrir nestled into his neck again, fighting the urge to lick him and instead placing a reassuring kiss on the soft arch of a honey-hued shoulder. The human gesture made Harry turn his head to meet his eyes. "I know we didn't get the best start, but having a home, a family of your own, wouldn't that please you?" he asked. His free arm was looped under Harry's neck at the perfect angle for the hand not on Harry's stomach to caress his sweaty hair. "I don't expect an answer yet, don't worry," he mused. "You're not the only seventeen year old not to know what he wants."

At this, Harry's eyes glistened. "I don't find it hard to imagine a bad tempered, troubled, hormonal teenage Fenrir Greyback terrorising the countryside," he chuckled. "I hope our child is better adjusted than both of us."

Fenrir's eyes widened a fraction and he rolled Harry a little more to face him, not removing his other hand from his stomach. He could feel it, just there, the small fluttering movements were continuing, as if the little creature within were fidgeting with elation that Harry had acknowledged it.

"Our child, you've never said that before," Fenrir almost whispered. Those green eyes stared into his for a long time.

"I suppose I haven't," Harry said, apparently not knowing what else to say. Those eyes softened and trust emanated from them as they never had before. Harry trusted him. It was enough to enable him to allow the subject on Harry's choice of words go, for now. But much later he would realise just how trustworthy Harry must have deemed him, for what his mate revealed next was quite obviously the most important secret he carried. And one he had been harbouring alone for months.

"Look," Harry began, "tomorrow, when we face _Him_, there's a few things you should know." He looked up at Fenrir, no hesitation in his voice or face. "How much do you know about Horcruxes?"

After the explanation he would realise that despite everything, Harry trusted him, implicitly – completely.

_~To Be Continued..._


	14. Gates to Hell

A/N: I don't think I've put this in anywhere yet (if I have, sorry for the repetition) but anyway, what the werewolves call Voldemort, _Tergarletum _is derived from the latin "_Letum_" meaning death, ruin, annihilation and "_Terga dare_" to flee, retreat, run away. As far as I'm aware, I made this up, no sue, no borrowing/stealing without permission ;)

Thank you again to every single reader and reviewer, you're what keeps me going and makes even the rubbish days a little brighter. I'm so thrilled to be sharing this story with you all. Please enjoy!

* * *

.: Chapter Fourteen :.

Gates to Hell

A soft, shaky exhalation of anxious anticipation shuddered over his lips as he stared across the dark countryside towards their goal. A gathering of dark clouds had eclipsed the moon and stars completely. It unnerved him how suffocated he felt now without them shining down on his skin. Was that because he was part wolf now? Perhaps it was simply because he was so used to feeling them above him, having spent a lot of nights under them in the last few months.

It felt like his mind _itched _as they moved across the dark grass toward their destination. He'd never really appreciated the fact that Fenrir's connection to him blocked Voldemort's intrusions until now. He could sense him trying to access him, but it was never more than this irritating prickle – even his dreams had been safe.

"Once we step foot in there, none of us will be safe," he murmured under his breath. Marrok who was walking close to him, nudged him gently with his shoulder in reassurance.

"If there's one person who _is _safe, I reckon it's you," he said, glancing to Fenrir and Raquelle who walked just in front of them. "There's no way anything is happening to you, don't worry."

"I'm not worried about myself," Harry retorted.

Fenrir grunted. "You should do, whatever happens to you happens to our cub."

Harry flinched a little at the admonishment, but Marrok nudged him again and stepped into line with Raquelle so that Fenrir could drop back to his side with some privacy. Fenrir's big knuckles brushed softly over the side of Harry's stomach, before caressing the back of Harry's hand briefly.

It was so dark. He was thankful for his heightened senses or else he'd probably have fallen arse over head by now. He was so far and away from how he'd awoken this morning, Fenrir nuzzling every crook and dip of his body as the sun streamed in through the window onto them both. He'd arched up and welcomed the brush of stubble, hot breath and firm mouth to each part of him, relaxed and warm.

Now he glanced up to Fenrir as they walked, heat dusting his cheeks as he recalled them both coming to completion in each other's mouths. "If you make sure we all get out of this alive, I'll let you have my arse again," he breathed. He wasn't quite sure why he said it, he just had this horrible, nagging feeling that they weren't all going to come out of this unscathed.

Fenrir's knuckles brushed over his fingers now. He chuckled softly. "Hmm, inspiration indeed." They weren't far now. Malfoy Manor was just ahead, the great wrought iron fence standing tall, dark and foreboding like the gates to hell. "Don't worry, alright?" Fenrir said when they were only a few feet from the gates. "You just focus on playing the part of a submissive broken prisoner, you'll need to make it good, pet."

Harry nodded, swallowing hard. "Remember, we can't kill him today, even if we get the opportunity. I don't know how many horcruxes Hermione and Ron managed to get without me. I need to be sure they're all gone before we attack him head on, this is purely about convincing him I'm broken so we have the freedom to go find my friends, alright?"

Fenrir said nothing, but Harry knew he was listening. "And you'll need to play the part of my cruel, beast of a captor, you'll need to be convincing no matter what he does."

They stopped at the gates and Harry inhaled deeply again before shrugging off his (Fenrir's) cloak and handing it to him. Fenrir fastened it around his own neck with an odd look in his eyes as Harry stripped out of the rest of his clothing. Raquelle shoved them in the small pouch at her waist as Harry shivered, the cool English evening whipping at his exposed skin. He could sense Fenrir's unease, his irritation that this had to be done, especially this way but they had agreed it was necessary in order to paint the picture of a submissive prisoner.

Once Harry was naked, his skin prickled with goosebumps from the cold and yet flushed with humiliation. He noticed Marrok and Raquelle avoided looking at him in an attempt to make this easier on him and for that he was silently thankful. He grit his teeth, fighting the urge to cover himself with his hands. Especially his stomach, which felt even more vulnerable than his cold genitals at the moment.

It appeared Fenrir needed a moment to steel himself for what must be done, to fight the urge to wrap himself around him, for it took him a while to act. At last, Fenrir raised his hand to wrap it round the back of his neck. He caressed his skin there gently with his thumb before tightening his grip. "I can be a beast for you, pet," Fenrir growled softly, "don't you worry." With that, a dark figure appeared at the gate on the opposite side. Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry noted and immediately bowed his head so that his hair hung into his eyes, the perfect symbol of submission.

"Let me in wench or you'll regret making me wait on the doorstep so long," Fenrir snarled. Harry thought he sensed the fear emanating from beyond the gate, but there was only the briefest of hesitations before they swung open with a foreboding squeak. Fenrir's grip on his neck urged him forward. He felt Marrok just behind him and Raquelle at his side. There was no turning back now.

Bellatrix lead them down the impossibly long dark path toward the manor house that loomed ahead. The ground crunched underfoot, the same way Harry's bones had crunched under the torture of Voldemort and his followers only a few short months ago – only to be healed to make way for the next torment. He winced as he followed Fenrir, Raquelle and Marrok behind him, guarding him from all sides. He was walking willingly into that agony again. He'd all-but forgotten it until he'd stepped through those gates but now…now he was afraid.

There were dim lights in the lower windows of Malfoy Manor, staring down at them as they approached like beady, knowing eyes. It made Harry shiver as they reached the threshold of the open front doors carved from heavy dark wood. He couldn't help himself, he hesitated on the doorstep and Bellatrix turned as he did so. Before she could say a word, however, Fenrir reached back and gripped the back of his neck in his great hand.

"Keep moving, boy," he barked gruffly, reminding Harry painfully of Uncle Vernon. He flinched inwardly, his gut clenching, but betrayed none of this and instead kept his head bowed, his eyes on the floor and followed the pressure of Fenrir's insistent hand. Somehow it was easier with Fenrir's heat on his skin, safer. He swore he felt that strange little flutter in his stomach from yesterday morning.

_Shit, _he cursed as he felt the unsettling hum of Voldemort's presence through the doors ahead. It was on him now, panic as thick as solids caught in his throat. He swallowed desperately and walked a fraction closer to Fenrir's side. He was afraid, he wasn't stupid enough to think he wasn't, especially not after what happened last time he was here. _Just let us get out of this alive. _That was his last thought as they moved from the lightless foyer into a large hall, the same room he had last spilt his blood in before Fenrir's rescue.

It was a great expanse of marble and wood filled with over two dozen bodies, including Voldemort himself who sat in a throne-like high-backed dining chair at the head of the room, watching their approach. The death eaters all had their hoods drawn back out of the way, they felt no need to hide – that was good. They assumed he was broken after months with Fenrir Greyback, who wouldn't with his reputation?

Harry just about caught the flash of all three Malfoys, a few other familiar faces, then _Snape._ Inwardly snarling, he forced the impassive, broken mask into place for all to see. He followed the pressure of Fenrir's hand until it pushed him firmly to his knees at the werewolf's feet where he'd stopped. He felt Raquelle and Marrok at their backs and every pair of eyes in the room focussed on the back of his head. When Fenrir's hand finally left the back of his neck, Harry's chest twitched with an involuntary, minute whine.

Voldemort heard it.

"The Great Harry Potter," he exhaled in his piercing hiss of a voice. Harry could practically _hear _his teeth gritting together in a malicious smile. "The Chosen One, here at my feet, naked, whining like a mongrel." A sinister laugh punctuated his words. "And they said Potter could never be broken." He turned his attention on Fenrir then, his conduct morphing into that false camaraderie he usually adopted with the alpha wolf.

"Swollen with your litter, as promised, Greyback, I'm impressed with his subdued appearance. And judging from the marks on him you have enjoyed him greatly." Harry tensed, he couldn't help it, not when he now knew those eyes were perusing his nakedness knowingly, seeing the lovebites and light bruises left on his skin from the night before. He swore the mating mark at his throat burned under their gazes.

"Seems he is a little shy, however," Voldemort noted at his flinch, sitting forward on his so-called throne. "Still not adjusted to his place, Greyback?"

"It doesn't matter what he's adjusted to, he does as he's told when I tell him to. He spreads his legs like a good bitch and that's what matters to me – the evidence is obvious, isn't it?" Fenrir said gruffly from somewhere above Harry. Though his roughness may have convinced everyone else in the room, Harry felt the tremor of fury running through each word.

"Indeed," Voldemort almost purred with evil delight. Harry heard him sit forward a bit more. His own fingers tensed where they lay on his thighs, which tightened together and his toes curled. He knew what the bastard was about to say before the word even left his pallid lips.

"Show me, Harry," he breathed with feigned affability.

Harry's breath froze in his lungs. It went against every fibre of his nature to do so. The instinct to hide his slowly growing stomach made him curl in on himself a fraction. A pleading whine fought to leave his lips on impulse but he bit it back, swallowing it hard along with the bile that had risen in his throat, burning it savagely. He had to hide it, it wasn't safe. The flutter in his stomach startled breath into his lungs but he did not move. _Not safe._

Suddenly, a bone-chilling hiss filled the room that came from neither him nor Voldemort. Movement caught the corner of his eye and he could not help but glance up a fraction, only to find the great scaly body of Nagini sliding into sight from behind the chair Voldemort sat on. She reared her head at the sight of Harry and slid forward. Instantly, a thrum of recognition reverberated through his bones so powerfully that Harry thought he felt his ribs rattling.

She was a horcrux. He just knew it somehow. The knowledge brought him back from his instinct to cower and hide his belly, hide his vulnerability. She was only a few feet from him – he had to kill her!

Dampening his suddenly dry lips with a flicker of his tongue, Harry slowly rose up onto the balls of his knees. Letting his arms fall down subtly to hide his private area as best he could without arousing suspicion, he kept his eyes down even as he raised his head, showing Voldemort what he wanted to see. He had to play his part if he wanted to get close enough to kill the snake.

"Very nice," Voldemort muttered with perverted pleasure in his awkwardness, rising to his feet. Harry took pride in the fact that he didn't flinch, although he swore he felt Fenrir, Raquelle and Marrok all shift slightly beside him.

"Our little catamite is most protective of your progeny," Voldemort noted, still watching Harry closely but addressing Fenrir. Harry could sense the growl that longed to rumble past his mate's lips, but the wolf grunted his agreement regardless. Voldemort chuckled softly at some unspoken private joke before adding, "I think he cares for it a great deal. I think it would break him for good to see it lying dead on his lap."

Harry shot to his feet, but before he could even glance back to Fenrir, a snarl of fury rumbled through the room. Voldemort gave a hiss of a laugh. "Come now, Fenrir, you can easily make more. From the look of his body you quite enjoy the practice." A few death eaters laughed nervously along with Voldemort, seemingly uncertain which of the two they feared more, him or Fenrir Greyback.

"He's mine and the cub in his belly is mine. Don't mistake my presence here for submission," Fenrir growled darkly. "I upheld my part of the bargain, you've seen him, now I'll leave."

At this Voldemort started forward, appearing immediately in front of Harry, who flinched back, but not quick enough. One of Voldemort's long-fingered hands gripped his wrist, while the other skirted over his bared belly. Harry whined sharply, writhing frantically and his pack mates froze, understanding how quickly those hands could end things for Harry and the infant inside him – before they even reached him, even close as they were.

"Oh, Harry, I knew you had some fight left, I can _feel _it," Voldemort crooned, tipping his head to the side to survey Harry's feral expression. Teeth bared, Harry snapped at thin air in warning, growling like a beast. The lights in the room flickered ominously. Voldemort smirked. "Did you enjoy spreading your trembling thighs for the most murderous werewolf in England, Potter? He's killed more than even myself, you know?"

The hand on his belly dug in, nails piercing his flesh and Harry screamed, part fury part despair. The sound reverberated through the room, signalling his distress to his pack. He felt Fenrir surge behind him and chaos erupted. Green and red wand light burst across the room in every direction. A roar that made the floor shake sounded and every hair on the back of Harry's neck stood on end as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of familiar silver fur.

"I killed your parents, Harry and I will make you watch as I kill your child before I rip out your heart and feed it to your pet wolf. Punishment for all of the trouble you have caused me." His nails lengthened magically and dug deeper into his flesh. The sharp hiss of Nagini just behind her master was the final piercing blow and Harry screamed again, blazing white light exploding from his body.

Voldemort was thrown back, flying through the air and slamming hard into the throne he had made for himself, the impact smashing it to pieces. A blood-chilling howl made Harry whirl shakily on his feet, blood weeping down his stomach to find a wolf Fenrir ripping into the flesh of a robed death eater to try and reach him. How had the gap between Harry and his pack grown so much in a few scarce seconds? A sea of panicked death eaters separated them now.

He shuddered, feeling the cold of the stone room as his instincts made panic rise in his throat like lava. He needed to get to his alpha, he needed to make his cub safe…

Suddenly, Harry froze. The air around him changed a fraction, a low woosh sounded above the din of violence and he _felt _something coming straight for him. He turned again, just quick enough to see a flash of hauntingly familiar green light _just _miss him. The killing curse struck the death eater close behind him instead, sending him crumpling to the floor as Harry faced the caster. Bellatrix was seething, practically foaming at the mouth where she stood a few feet in front of where Voldemort was finding his feet (apparently more damaged by Harry's freak spell than it first seemed), like a loyal pit-bull.

For the first time since that day in the Ministry, where Sirius had fallen, white-hot anger did not blind Harry or send him hurling forward in thoughtless vengeance. He ran his palm over the place where blood continued to flow from his slightly rounded stomach. There were more important things than vengeance, Sirius had known that and now Harry did too.

Bellatrix glared at his bravery, clenching her teeth and spitting at him with revulsion as she raised her wand again. "I'll send you to see Sirius myself, Potty," she snarled. "How _dare _you use your wretched tricks of _love _to try and discredit the Dark Lord!"

As she spoke, a searing curse blasted straight through the body of a death eater and slammed straight into Harry's shoulder. He screamed, writhing midair, giving Bellatrix the chance to strike.

"_Avada Kedav–!"_

"_Expelliarmus!" _That second voice rang through the madness as Harry dropped hard to the marble floor, spitting blood onto the glossy white surface. He winced at the throbbing pain in shoulder, glancing up from behind his fringe to find his unlikely saviour. Draco Malfoy was lowering his wand with a shaky, uncertain hand, his eyes wide as if he couldn't believe what he had done. Harry didn't pause to think about why he had done it – he didn't have time.

"Little traitor! _Crucio_!" Macnair bit out from the sidelines, dodging a venomous Raquelle at the same time, sending Draco rolling to the ground, howling in pain.

"No!" Harry cried out, staggering to his feet, only to find himself face-to-face with the serpentine eyes of Nagini. Her tongue flickered out of her mouth, tasting his blood, fear and sweat on the air. Harry stepped back a fraction, one arm around his abused belly but Nagini reared higher, hissing warningly without words. Harry froze at the sound and stopped retreating.

"_Some wolves eat snakes,"_ he hissed back at her. She stopped swaying, surprised.

"_Some snakes eat wolves," _she tasted the air again. _"Master will feed me your litter once he's torn it from your belly_._"_

Harry raised his chin, his fingers closing around a wand that wasn't there in a fruitless search of courage. _Hide, _his instincts whispered desperately. _Hide your body! Hide your cub! Find your alpha!_ Harry shook his head, battling with his instincts. He could hear his pack fighting to get to him, he could hear Malfoy rolling in agony for saving him – his stomach was bleeding. He couldn't hide away now.

"_You're a horcrux," _he hissed darkly. _And she is a threat to our young, _his mind supplied, his instincts roiling to the surface like frantic bubbles in a boiling cauldron. He had to kill her, she had to die.

"_You see a lot with your pretty young eyes," _she said dangerously, rearing up until she was far above him. _"I will tear them out!" _She gave a great scratching growl and dove for his throat. Magic exploded in Harry's gut and he leapt up to meet her, jerking his head to the side and sinking his suddenly sharp teeth into her neck. She screeched and Harry snarled around his mouthful, biting down, biting _harder _the more she struggled.

Every molecule of blood thundering through his veins was hot and powerful. He was dizzy with it, completely overcome by the wolf inside him. _Protect young, protect mate…_!

He bit down again, vaguely registering the sight of Voldemort standing a few feet away, staring at him, frozen in shocked horror. Harry was too feral to care, shaking his head like a dog with a stick, wrestling with his mouthful until at last the bones under his teeth gave a sickening _snap _and blood filled his mouth. The snake went limp and Harry spat it onto the ground, shuffling backwards on all fours to survey his kill.

The snake was enormous. Harry cocked his head, giving the lifeless serpent a shove with the back of his hand. It was a big kill, Alpha was certain to be pleased. He'd protected himself, he'd protected their cub. Alpha would be very proud. He spat the blood of the snake onto the ground, revolted by its taste. It was bitter, tainted by dark magic. It wasn't good. He was hungry. He was hurt. He needed…

A low growl caught his attention and he turned his head in time to glimpse ice-blue eyes rimmed with fiery gold before a great silver muzzle butted him cautiously. Harry whined slowly, rolling onto his back to show his mate where he was hurt, only to cry out as his wounded shoulder touched the floor. His mate was huge, his great silver furred body completely covering his own, shielding his vulnerability from view.

The chaos around them must have stopped, for Raquelle and Marrok were beside him now, wet noses nuzzling his hair and fingers questioningly. They were checking to see if he was ok, but he wasn't ok. They were all in danger still. He couldn't rest until his pack was safe.

"_Crucio!"_ The voice of Voldemort ripped through the silence that had fallen, slightly higher than usual but no less insane. The burst of blinding light that flew from his wand bolted towards them. Fenrir snarled and stood firm over Harry, absorbing the curse into his fur, which glittered for a moment with sparks, but did nothing else. Like with giants, the magic just bounced off of him.

The shock and fear in each of the onlookers was palpable. But especially in Voldemort himself, whose crimson eyes went wide with fury and panic. _"Crucio! Crucio! CRUCIO!" _The light vanished into the barrier of Fenrir's fur as if it had never been. The alpha wolf growled dangerously, pawing at the ground but Harry whined again, his fingers curling into the soft fur of the wolf's underbelly. He wanted to go home, he wanted to be safe.

The message seemed to be successfully conveyed for the wolf bowed his head, licking Harry consolingly. Harry tipped his head to the side, letting Raquelle and Marrok nudge and check his shoulders. It happened within seconds. Several long, seconds that moved as if in slow-motion. He saw his blond packmate twitching in aftermaths of the spell their enemy had cast on him – punishment for saving him. Harry frowned, concentrating hard and reached out with outstretched fingers. He whined again, his three wolf companions nuzzling closer and suddenly, the blond's arm gave a weak spasm, putting it just within Harry's reach.

Voldemort's snarl of rage, the sound of his footfalls on the marble floor and the flare of his wand echoed in the hall as five bodies vanished with a _CRACK _from the great room. Voldemort froze, staring at the spot for a moment, slowly registering what had happened. Then, suddenly, he turned on the creature closest to him.

"_CRUCIO!" _he cried, sending Bellatrix rolling onto her back with quivering spasms. As her cries offered tribute to the strength of his torture curse, of his magic, he turned on Lucius. The man was on his knees, having been knocked to the ground with such force by Marrok that he'd cracked his skull open on the marble floor. He was having trouble staying upright.

"_You_!" Voldemort hissed. "You said no one could apparate within these walls, _no one_! Not even _I_ can do so, so why can the boy?!" he demanded, raising his wand when Lucius stumbled over his words. "_CRUCIO!"_ he cast the spell again and again, but there was no reason Lucius could give. He didn't know the answer. No one should have been able to apparate in the walls of his home. No one could, except somehow…Potter.

* * *

Fenrir grunted as his furred wolf body hit the ground. He staggered swiftly to his feet, gaze darting around in search of his mate. Raquelle and Marrok each shifted back into their mortal visage, checking the damage the death eaters had done on them. The Malfoy boy was still jerking from pain, semi-conscious beside them, the movements wrenching his arm from Harry's grasp. Harry still looked too feral to notice. He had used magic in his feral state, werewolf magic; powerful magic to apparate them just outside the boundary of the forest that formed the doorway to their territory.

Harry's eyes were vivid green, glazed over and blinking unseeingly up at the sky. Fenrir stepped over him once more, his great paws either side of those shoulders. Harry writhed when he saw him, his fingers gliding up the soft fur of his forelegs. But the alpha could see the lucidity returning slowly. They were safe now with their forest around them, the survival instinct would soon retreat from the forefront. Fenrir gave a soft growl, nuzzling at his mate's throat and lapping reassuringly against his skin. Harry whined softly, rolling his stomach up into Fenrir's nose.

The wolf winced at the smell of blood, the potential damage, but it seemed to be superficial. He could smell Harry's shallow blood only; the cub was unharmed. He lapped at the bloody, ragged gashes until they healed into dark pink marks and leant back, waiting for the more lucid Harry to return. Slowly, those eyes regained their focus.

"What the…?" Harry murmured as if resurfacing from a drunken stupor, sober at last. Shaking his head slightly, he frowned as he registered the sight of Fenrir as a wolf looming over him. It wasn't something he'd had to face since…

Clearing his throat he shifted so he was sitting up and found himself curiously calm. The feel of that hot, furred body over his still made him tense but he was not bone-chillingly afraid. He swallowed hard and slowly reached out to brush his fingers down the soft fur on one of Fenrir's legs, testing the little tingly sensations that tickled his fingertips as he did so. Fenrir lowered his head at the touch to meet his eyes and Harry stared back until he managed to find his voice.

"The snake was a horcrux," he murmured, for Fenrir's ears only. "It was so strange. I could just… I just knew…" He didn't voice his concern of how he was able to do that, but he had a feeling that dark look in Fenrir's eyes told him he understood regardless. "We need to go to Ron and Hermione, I need to know how many horcruxes are left so I know if I can kill him."

At his words, Fenrir grunted lowly and sat back on his haunches, shuddering as the change sent his wolf form merging back into his mortal shape one once more. The human Fenrir eyed him thoughtfully. "You're hurt," he said, shrugging off the fur cloak Harry had passed to him earlier and wrapping it back round Harry's body. Regardless of his nudity, he leant forward and traced outside the practically healed marks on Harry's belly, just as Harry pulled the cloak closed.

"The cub isn't," he assured Harry on seeing the panicked look on the boy's face. He smiled subtly at the way Harry exhaled in relief. He leant down, intending to mouth that vile gash until it vanished entirely this time; Harry's hand in his hair halted him, however. He glanced up, seeing green eyes shining like emeralds.

"No," Harry said, softy but abruptly. "Not here." He glanced to Raquelle and Marrok, then finally, the now unconscious blond beside them. He was fully back to himself and aware once more, complete with his trademark awkwardness.

"He saved me," Harry muttered to himself.

"Is that why you brought him back with us?" Fenrir asked, not entirely sure how he felt about the situation.

"They would've killed him if we left him there," Harry murmured after a long, thoughtful pause. "He was a git but he didn't deserve that and besides…" he paused again, chewing the inside of his lip. "It just felt right, instinctual or…whatever it is inside me that makes me do stupid things. For whatever reason, he stood between me and that curse that could've killed my cub and that made me feel like he was…you know, pack." As he spoke he cringed a little, as if uncomfortable with what he was saying and distracted them both by stumbling to his feet.

At the same time, Fenrir wondered if Harry realised he'd just said 'my cub'…

"I'm fine, don't fuss," Harry griped when Fenrir moved to support him. He pulled the cloak tighter around his vulnerable body. "Can you carry him, Marrok?" he asked the dark-skinned man, gesturing to Malfoy's unconscious form. At once, the man complied, hauling the blond up into the air with one huge arm behind his back and one under his knees. He smiled reassuringly at Harry, who he knew hated asking for help, or admitting weakness in any way.

"I really wish I had my wand," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Like you need it," Fenrir grunted, "you proved its uselessness today didn't you?"

Harry grit his teeth, looking away awkwardly. "It comes when I'm panicked or overwhelmed, not when I call it," he replied, "I'm tired of being powerless. I need to _do _something. Our pretence with _Him _is pretty much buggered now; I want to go to Ron and Hermione like you promised. I want to get my wand back!"

"You're hurt and our packmates are injured," Fenrir said simply, "let's head back to the den." With that he turned and began walking, Raquelle and Marrok following behind, leaving Harry no choice but to follow. His instincts were still ricocheting back and forth in his chest, his nerves still tense and shuddering. They weren't safe yet, he wasn't inclined to argue until they were. But once they were back…

They were met with uneasy silence no sooner had the gates closed behind them. Everyone seemed to have sensed their approach through the caves and were now gathered under the moon, waiting for them. Harry could not help but notice a lot of attention was focused on the unconscious blond in Marrok's arms. He shifted to stand slightly in front of them both. Perhaps it was a tribute to how far he'd come since Fenrir first dragged him into this life against his will, but he felt none of the hesitation he once might've in asserting his position.

He thought distantly that it was largely due to the life growing in his belly that he felt the need to act like the alpha he was, but did not have to dwell on it for long.

"He is not one of us." Predictably, the first one to speak out was Ulric. He observed Malfoy's branded forearm with distaste. "A Death Eater. You brought a _human _Death Eater to our sanctuary – and a Malfoy at that," Ulric snarled. "His ancestors were among those who tried to desecrate this pack!"

Harry met his glare with his own. "I brought him here, he saved my life and he's staying here until it's safe for him to go home. It's not negotiable," he said, his voice hard and flat. As immobile as stone.

"His grandfather killed your alpha's family! Massacred his siblings like cattle!" Ulric spat, surging forward as if to rip Malfoy limb from limb but staring straight at Harry. "Have you no shame? Have you no _respect_?"

"Have _you_?!" Harry snarled before Echo or Marrok or Fenrir could begin to defend him against this blatant challenge. He stepped forward to meet Ulric's challenge, halting the older wolf in his steps. "Fenrir is my alpha, he's your alpha but I am too," he said rigidly, the ones just feeling _right _on his tongue. "If this is my will then you are to respect that. Respect _me_."

Ulric, to his credit bowed his head a fraction and moved back a pace out of Harry's space. "He is a danger to us," the wolf murmured. "He could betray us. He has no ties to us,. When the full moon comes he will be torn to pieces if he is not a wolf and has not been claimed–"

"_I _claim him," Harry said simply, "He's mine. My responsibility. And if you worry for this pack's ability to keep a seventeen year old boy in check then we have much bigger problems."

Silence followed, during which Harry met every single pair of eyes that watched him.

"He saved my life, I couldn't repay that by leaving him there to die in punishment," he said. "He won't bring any harm to us, I promise you that." This seemed enough for the crowd that had gathered, even if it wasn't enough for Ulric. They moved politely aside as Harry headed for the den but it was Fenrir's hand that held the door to it shut when Harry tried to open it.

Harry frowned, following the line of Fenrir's strong arm, painted with blood from his various wounds to look into his eyes. They were smouldering gold with bloodshed and were staring down at him. "Move," Harry commanded. Fenrir smirked wickedly.

"You're becoming quite the gutsy little alpha mate," he mused, leaning down to inhale the scent of tenacity and confidence that clung to Harry's hair. "It makes me hard for you."

Harry flushed darkly. Fenrir hadn't spoken to him like this since…

He swallowed.

"I stand by your decision to repay the Malfoy brat by offering him sanctuary until he is no longer in danger," Fenrir continued, his voice husky and low. "But you will not play nursemaid to him in my den.

"What does it matter?" Harry asked, turning slightly to face Fenrir properly. He regretted it instantly, as the move gave Fenrir the room to slid in closer, their chests touching. Fenrir's face was very close. Closer than it had been for some time.

"Still much to learn," Fenrir almost chuckled. "An unmated adult does not lie in the den of a mated pair unless they're related. It's not done."

Harry snorted. "I think you knew even before you brought me here that I have a certain 'disregard for the rules'." He felt a pang of melancholy prick his chest on using Dumbledore's words, but Fenrir gave him no time to ponder that.

"If you want him to survive the night, you won't test my instinct to hide you away from anyone else any more tonight," Fenrir replied firmly, before adding, "I think you owe me that."

Harry grit his teeth and huffed heavily. For fuck's sake. He turned and looked at Echo, Marrok and Raquelle, who were good enough to pretend they hadn't heard them despite the fact that they'd been waiting patiently behind them for instruction. "Echo, will you take him? He's been unconscious since the _Cruciatus_ faded and–"

"Of course," Echo cut across him with a smile. "I'll tend to him. You must rest," he gestured to Harry's stomach, "you've had enough strain on your body as it is."

Harry nodded, feeling guilty that he hadn't considered how strained the child must be from the explosion of magic he just created. His hand moved unconsciously to his stomach. He wasn't doing a very good job at protecting thislife, especially since it couldn't defend itself. He bit the inside of his mouth. His instincts longed to curl up in the dimly lit safety, the warmth of his den with his alpha between him and the only point of entry. Perhaps he should obey it, just for tonight.

_I owe Fenrir that, _he thought, realising for the first time that if he felt the constant burning of his instincts, Fenrir must be suffering with it too.

"You'll come get me if he wakes up?" Harry asked uncertainly. He knew what Malfoy's reaction was bound to be once he awoke to find himself surrounded by werewolves. Echo nodded and Harry sighed. "Thank you," he said softly, tiredly. He looked to Raquelle and Marrok, both as naked and bloodied from their interlude with the Death Eaters as Fenrir was.

"Thank you both, for everything, really–"

"Just rest yourself," Raquelle said softly, "you performed some very powerful magic tonight."

Marrok grunted in agreement, surveying Harry with that usual warmth in his eyes.

"Come," Fenrir said gruffly, pulling the door open and urging Harry inside. Harry frowned and stared up at him in confusion as the alpha closed the door hastily behind them. "He wants you," Fenrir growled in explanation, stalking forwards and forcing Harry to back up along with him. "His breath comes faster when you look at him, I don't like it."

Harry's cheeks burned at those words. Fenrir's blood was all riled up and pumping from the fight, from the knowledge that he, Harry had been in danger while carrying. The alpha was worked up, in need of release and with the way those gold eyes were trained on his throat, Harry had a pretty good idea of just how Fenrir planned to seek that release.

Any ache or pain from the battle and all tiredness was suddenly forgotten. He was suddenly very, very aware of everything, right down to the way each individual hair on the fur wrapped around him tickled his heating flesh. But was he ready for this after…?

He licked his lips. "I don't want him, you know, Marrok," Harry clarified for him, the confidence and assertiveness from a moment ago dwindling as his instincts bubbled closer to the surface. He was safe now, in his den and they wanted him to submit to his needs.

"You're mine," Fenrir grunted, heat radiating from him as it only usually did on the full moon. "I'm the only one that can protect you, can sate your needs," he drew closer, so that Harry stumbled backwards in panic and nearly fell on his arse into the cold fireplace. Fenrir caught him easily with a hand behind his back, hauling him up tight to his own body. "I'm the one that filled your belly," he added, as if this were the final, unarguable peak of his claim.

Harry swallowed hard again, his breathing escaping his lips in harsh, insatiable waves. "I don't…" He stopped short, not knowing what to say. He struggled in Fenrir's grasp to right himself, shoving with all his might against the solid wall of muscle until he was on his own feet again. But Fenrir was still standing over him, his large hands gripping Harry's hips possessively.

Embarrassed and uncertain, Harry turned, not wanting to look into those eyes anymore or feel that heated breath on his face. Those arms locked around him again, pulling his back tight against Fenrir's chest. He inhaled sharply. "Fenrir," he began uncertainly, a warm hardness pressing against his arse through the fur cloak. Those hands roved the front of his body, one caressing and cupping his throat while the other slid down to roam his belly lovingly.

"I filled you up, I bred you," Fenrir growled in his ear.

Harry nodded. "Yes," he whispered as that mouth grazed the nape of his neck.

"You're mine."

"Yours. Fenrir, stop," Harry said as the hand on his throat slid up. Fenrir's thumb glided roughly over his mouth, forcing itself inside to touch his tongue.

"Want to show you," Fenrir grunted, walking Harry forwards to the bed before tipping him forwards onto it.

"I…I can't," Harry said as his shoulders hit the furs. "No!" This time his voice held conviction, force and Fenrir stopped but did not release him.

"Don't want my touch?" Fenrir asked, his words broken and animalistic. "I haven't taken, haven't bred you in so long. I…mmm a…bad mate?"

The hand on Harry's stomach felt so warm and right, the presence behind him comforting. He didn't know if he could tolerate Fenrir's all-animal urgency so soon. Last night had been different, a more acceptable intimacy and yet that had been startling enough after being starved so long of touch. After what had happened on the last full moon…

Slowly, Harry extricated himself and turned onto his back, leaning on his elbows as he stared up into Fenrir's burning gold gaze. "Why do you need to take me? I'm already pregnant," Harry asked, for some reason needing to know. On the full moon, both of them had the urge to rut to create life, but now they already had. So was this instinct or sheer desire?

"Want to," Fenrir panted, leaning in to graze Harry's jaw with the corner of his lips, like an animal scenting. "Want…release. Want to feel you. Want closeness."

Harry stared into those eyes at that. It didn't sound like a beast wanting to unleash the tension – at least not entirely. He wanted that all as well. But could he take it? Still not entirely sure he knew the answer to that question, Harry slowly unclasped the cloak from around his shoulders, letting it pool on the bed below him. He held that gaze as he parted his thighs. He wasn't entirely sure, but he wanted it, badly and Fenrir would stop. He knew he would. He trusted him.

Requiring no further invitation, Fenrir leapt up, his arms supporting his body either side of Harry's shoulders as he knelt between his legs. "Want…want to be worthy," he growled softly and leant down but instead of diving for his throat, he looked into Harry's eyes thoughtfully before pressing his lips to Harry's.

Harry wrapped his arms around that neck, welcoming him to his body. He was in control, because he could stop him if he wanted to – magic or no magic. Fenrir would stop if he asked, it wasn't like before, with the wolf driving them both to madness. It was different now and he wanted it so badly. "Then show me," Harry grunted, challenging in between ravenous kisses.

The fact that they were kissing was a tribute to how different it was. Harry opened his mouth and tasted that tongue, groaning as it slid along his with frantic hunger. He clawed at Fenrir's neck and shoulders as that mouth devoured him, arched his hips slightly with each gasping groan Fenrir made into his mouth.

Holy fuck. He'd forgotten how good it was to lose himself to Fenrir. How much of a relief it was to give himself over to someone else. How amazing it was to relax and let the wolf inside him express itself. He hadn't realised just how much of a burden it was until he let go.

Winding his fingers in Fenrir's silvery hair he tugged, his nails scraping at the nape of his neck. Suddenly that mouth tore away from his wetly, leaving his lips swollen and damp with their combined spittle. Harry gasped for air, emitting a short whine of disappointment as the werewolf stared down at him. Blue flecked those golden eyes now, even as heavy, hot breaths spilled from that mouth. Harry had been searching for words when that head dipped again, mouthing his belly in fervent worship.

"Mine," Fenrir growled, caressing the subtly rounded flesh with his stubbly jaw, scenting him there as well. Feeling him. "My cub."

Harry couldn't help but smile. His head felt fuzzy. But it was both the human in him and the wolf that reached down to splay his fingers across the man's shoulders encouragingly.

"Yes," he said, his voice husky and rough. "We're both yours." A firm bump to his insides punctuated his words. Fenrir stopped and stared down at his skin, his coarse fingers brushing Harry's side. "Cub agrees," Fenrir grunted after a moment, before crawling up Harry's body, hunching over him and seizing his mouth with ravenous kisses. He held his face in place as he did so, so that all Harry could do was gasp hungrily into his mouth and arch up into his body.

*****CENSORED. FOR FULL SCENE PLEASE FOLLOW ONE OF THE LINKS ON MY PROFILE*****

It was so debauched and decadent. It made Harry's head spin with fuzzy, breathless bliss as he slowly came down – like a feather on a non-existent breeze. He felt that mouth bestow a slow, exhausted kiss on his neck before Fenrir let up a fraction. Harry gave an almost inaudible whine of negation. It was quite nice, Fenrir's weight, his warmth atop him after sex. He would get used to it 'during' again, in time, he was confident of that. Nothing seemed impossible at the moment.

Murmuring happily as Fenrir mouthed his skin, he basked in the afterglow. His mate was offering an answering, husky almost-purr as he caressed him. "I've given you love-bites, pet," Fenrir said quietly.

"Good," Harry said breathlessly, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breath. It matched his heartbeat, which was slowly calming down under Fenrir's ministrations. After a lingering, delectable few moments, Fenrir pulled back a little more.

"You have no idea how sexy that looks," Fenrir muttered.

Harry flushed, rolling over onto his back. He didn't miss the way Fenrir's eyes (slowly returning to their usual blue) scanned his sweaty, sated form. It was embarrassing but also sort of…nice, to be appreciated that way. No one had ever looked at him, wanted him the way Fenrir did. It gave him more confidence than he'd ever anticipated having. Fenrir leant down, supporting his body up off of Harry's a fraction, giving room between them not only for his belly, but also for Harry to run his fingers down the hard, defined muscles of the alpha's stomach.

Harry stared at the sweat-dampened flesh. He bit his lip. His own stomach had been hard and sinewy once, toned from quidditch and roughing it across the English countryside, but Fenrir was…

Glancing up into those eyes again, he realised that Fenrir had kept himself neat and trimmed since that first time he'd awoken to find him that way. He hadn't been paying attention before, too wrapped up in himself, but always Fenrir had been making an effort for him. Fenrir's fingers tilted his chin up a fraction and he realised he'd been caught staring. His blush deepened.

"You're quite good looking, you know," Harry said diffidently, by way of explanation.

Fenrir looked a bit shocked. He rolled off Harry completely, supporting himself up on his elbow on his side. Resting his head on his hand, he eyed Harry curiously. "You're probably the only one that thinks so," he mused, with no hunt of concern in his voice. Fenrir, all of the werewolves were untouched by society's worries. Here it was about strength and integrity. None of them cared what they looked like, at least, the way they saw beauty wasn't the same.

"I'm an acquired taste," Fenrir added with a smirk, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

Harry frowned. "Larentia must've thought you were, she wanted to be your mate so badly that she hated me for it as soon as she saw me."

Fenrir huffed, brushing the backs of his knuckles over Harry's cheek, still flushed from sex, before allowing it to trail down slowly to settle on his nigh-nonexistent bump. As before, at his touch, the infant within moved with the same urgent butterfly flutters. Harry drew in a breath, looking down. "It seems to really like you," he muttered in wonder. There really was something alive and moving inside him. He really wasn't used to this. It felt so strange.

"You're still Harry Potter, you know," Fenrir said, evidently sensing Harry's feelings. "And what we did just now more than proves you're just as much of a man as before."

"How can I be?" Harry asked. "I'm bloody pregnant, Fenrir!" The hand on his belly remained but the movement within him stilled. It did feel good, this intimacy, this connection – the fact that it felt so good was what made this all the more confusing.

Fenrir leant up higher on his elbow to ensure Harry could not escape his gaze. "Human men alter their bodies magically all the time to get pregnant in the wizarding world; this isn't as unusual and taboo as you seem to think."

It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to say that the main difference was that those other men _chose _this, whereas he hadn't, but Fenrir didn't deserve that. The wolf and the man were one, but under the moon Fenrir didn't have the ability to consider his feelings as he did normally. Harry could no more blame him for what had happened than he could Remus for nearly killing him when he was thirteen. He sighed softly, he did miss Remus, Hermione, Ron…all of them…

"I know," he said at last, closing his eyes. He felt quite tired all of a sudden. "I'm just confused – scared bloody shitless, actually, something you might not be acquainted with."

Fenrir smirked but the expression didn't quite touch his eyes. "I know what it feels like to be scared, pet. None of us are above it. Even Tergarletum is scared of something."

Harry licked his lips thoughtfully, turning his head to the side and into Fenrir's chest so the man couldn't see his face. "I… Back at the Malfoy place, when _He _touched my stomach, when he scratched me…" He winced. "I was afraid. Afraid for it – the baby, not myself. I didn't want it to die." He paused then, straining to look up at Fenrir through his fringe without exposing too much of his own face. But what he saw of the man's features gave nothing away. "I didn't expect to feel that way about it," he concluded.

"You want him after all – I'm glad," Fenrir said after a long pause. He rolled over a little, pressing his nose into Harry's throat.

"The thought of…well, you know _having _it–" He couldn't say 'giving birth' it was too surreal. "–and being responsible for it when I can barely keep myself out of trouble year after year, it scares the shit out of me. I can't say that I'm looking forward to it. I can't even really explain it except that…it's mine. It's my family, my _only _blood family and no one is going to take anymore of my family away from me."

For some reason, he felt what he was certain was approval rolling off of the man beside him. A huge arm now lay across his shoulders and Fenrir had stopped sniffing him in favour of laying peacefully against him. He couldn't imagine being a parent – much less being a parent with Fenrir Greyback of all people, but he supposed in a few short months he wouldn't have to imagine anything and Fenrir, well, he was…

Harry frowned then, only just realising what Fenrir had said before. "Him?" he asked.

Fenrir chuckled against him, though even he sounded worn, exhausted and feeling his injuries now that the buzz of adrenaline was fading. "When I think about it, I picture a son in my head." His arm slid down so that his hand covered Harry's stomach once again. The motion was becoming more and more casual each time but Harry found it also growing more acceptable. How had he missed this closeness with other people his entire life? How had he lived so long without it?

"Our son," Fenrir murmured then. Harry flushed darkly. "Still too strange for you?"

"A bit, yeah," Harry admitted.

"But not bad?"

Harry swallowed. "No, I suppose not." He thought for a moment and his insides tensed as the reality of the world came tumbling back onto his shoulders. "But he, he's just another reason that we can't wait any longer. We have to make things safe for him as well as everyone else." It was him that rolled onto his side then to survey Fenrir seriously.

"You want to protect us both so you have to see now, _Vol– Tergarletum _needs to be destroyed. The snake is dead. That's one horcrux down. I need to get back to Hermione and Ron, I need to know how many more horcruxes we have to destroy before we take the fight to _Him_."

Fenrir growled lowly. "You nearly lost our cub today, you'll feel the urge to den, you'll freeze in the face of danger because of your instincts – you're in no shape to go find them and hunt horcruxes, much less kill _Him_!"

Harry felt panic rise in his gut. Fenrir wasn't going to let him do this, but he _had_ to!

"You can't keep me here," he warned him.

Fenrir growled again. "I can and I will. It's my job to keep you safe–"

"If you leave it until _He _burns the whole country to the ground to find us there will be _no _'safe'," Harry hissed. "He'll never let me go, Fenrir. Neither of us can live while the other survives. Let me finish what I started!"

Fenrir snarled and threw himself up off the bed, irritating his wounds and wincing as he did so, still he stalked a few feet from the bed, unable to look at Harry. After a moment, he whirled to face him, his anger visibly reined in. Even naked as the day he was born, he still looked imposing and livid. "I let him put his scaly hands on you today because you said he _had _to, you said I had to keep up the illusion. But that's gone now, there's no reason to play nice and if he touches you again I'll make him _eat _his own hands!"

Harry sat up. Why couldn't Fenrir understand? "I'm bloody pregnant Fenrir!" He snapped and the sudden admission made Fenrir stop and stare at him. Harry ploughed on, his voice tight, on the cusp of panic. "You once said whatever I had left undone was your responsibility now. You said you are an extension of me, my strength to wield – so _let me_. I can't do this on my own so _help_ me!"

An odd look crossed the alpha's face. He always found it hard to resist those two words, especially with Harry's desperation so tangible.

"I don't like it when you smell so upset," Fenrir murmured quietly.

"Then let me go," Harry pleaded.

Fenrir let out a coarse huff and slowly, rigidly came back to him, kneeling on the edge of the furs, staring down at Harry. "No," he said, "you're not going anywhere." But before Harry could argue at all, he continued, "Stay here where it's safe. I'll bring them to you."

Harry blinked, his lips parting in speech that was cut short before it even left his tongue by another wince from Fenrir. Harry frowned, crawling to the edge of the bed and watching the alpha warily. "Why aren't you healing as quickly as you usually do?" he asked.

Fenrir grumbled. "Wounds caused by strong dark magic aren't fatal like they are to humans but they're a fucker to heal." He glanced down at where a few wounds on his chest were weeping dark, thick blood "No external magic can heal it either, so there's no point in suggesting anyone else try to help."

"I wasn't going to," Harry replied shortly to the accusing tone in Fenrir's voice. He paused for a moment, recalling something important. "Won't you heal quicker if you're a wolf?" he asked cautiously.

"So eager for me to get back to my full strength so I can go?" Fenrir growled. He glared at Harry for a moment, his concern for Harry, his desire to keep him hidden and safe as his instincts demanded venting outward in the form of frustration. Harry knew he was making it hard for him. He was going against his own instincts by trying to finish the task that Dumbledore had left him, against what he wanted even, but he couldn't just hide away and pretend the world wasn't on the precipice of apocalypse around him.

At last Fenrir gave another huff of a reply, "Yeah, I heal quicker as a wolf, but I know what the sight of my wolf does to you." He looked on Harry with dark, unfathomable eyes. As blunt as ever, straight to the point, but his voice was thick and husky with the things he would never voice aloud.

Harry moistened his dry lips. "You can change if it'll help," he murmured, even as his chest tightened at the thought. He wasn't sure he was ready for it.

Fenrir frowned, considering him a moment before approaching the bed with a shake of his head. He lowered himself to the floor with his back to the fur bed, tipping his head back to stare up at the canopy above, lost in thought. Harry watched him for some time, his own eyes sweeping over the bloody wounds on his mate's torso. They weren't deep but they were angry unnatural shades of purple and red, clearly painful. Harry had led them into that place and it seemed he'd been the only one to get out with only a scratch. He winced at the thought.

Leaning down, he rested his forehead against the furs right next to Fenrir's face, so that their cheeks were almost touching. "You can stay if you want, I know you won't hurt me," he said quietly, eyes closed. He felt Fenrir tense beside him and then, slowly the man pulled away. Harry remained as he was, face in the furs, his fingers curling into the fabric as he listened to the sound of bones and muscle realigning. Fenrir himself merely gave a harsh grunt that morphed into a growl as his mouth became a muzzle. But Harry still didn't move. He waited.

After the sounds of change died and gave way to silence, Harry felt that warmth again, that presence just a few inches away. He steeled himself and raised his head, seeing the familiar silver wolf bowed forwards so that his head was level with Harry's face and not towering over him. Harry inhaled sharply, his heart pounding in his chest, sweat beading across his brow as his breath came in sharp, shallow pants. He held his breath in an attempt to stifle the sound of panic in it and forced himself to give Fenrir a nod of assent.

Ice-blue eyes regarded him carefully before the wolf slid onto the bed, moving across it on his belly as if unwilling to tower over him as his size typically allowed him to do. He grunted as he shifted and settled quickly in the centre, resting his head on his crossed paws. Harry couldn't move for some time.

"I still don't think I can handle it, especially not another wolf – I'm definitely not ready for the full moon but I…" He paused, his limbs shaking as he shuffled uncertainly closer to Fenrir, who was watching him patiently. "I know you won't hurt me," he finished. At this, Fenrir strained his neck so that it was the only part of him that moved and sniffed at Harry's belly. His long tongue flicked out, licking at the dark pink marks that were all that was left of the wounds Voldemort had inflicted.

Harry tensed at first, gritting his teeth and wincing but he knew the act was not a sexual one. His stomach was a sacred place on his body with the baby inside him – to all of the pack. Hesitantly, he raised his hand and caressed Fenrir's large furry ears. The wolf raised his head, cocked it to once side as if thinking for a moment. Then, in a most un-Fenrir like manuevre, he rolled onto his back, paws in the air, never once tearing his gaze from Harry.

Unable to help himself, Harry smiled and stretched out, on his side, pressing his back into Fenrir's fur in a silent acknowledgement that he was doing alright. With a relieved huff, Fenrir turned back onto his stomach, so that Harry was pressed into the warm fur of his side. That muzzle snuffled at the back of his head affectionately, the tongue lapping at his hair in both gratitude and reassurance.

When Fenrir laid his head down, his body relaxing, Harry breathed out a relieved sigh. It was alright. He could do this. Fenrir had done so much for him after all and besides that, deep down, he missed the way it had once felt. It wasn't as calming as it had been when he'd first met Fenrir, but he would get used to it again, be able to relax into the warmth of that fur, in the presence of Fenrir's other form as well – in time. He just hoped all of them lived long enough to see that day.

_~To Be Continued..._


	15. Little Bludger

Information on Fenrir's 'cannon' past that was all outlined by JKR in Half Blood Prince, Deathly Hallows, Pottermore and Goblet of Fire. I think a brief outline can be found at the Harry Potter Wikia.

I've obviously given that my own spin. Hope you like it ;)

**PLEASE NOTE: I'm using the timeline as per the Harry Potter books, so this story is set in 1998 and Harry's (would be) 7th year. Bear this in mind while Fenrir discusses dates at the end of this chapter.**

Thank you again for all your reviews - please enjoy the calm before the storm ;)

* * *

.: Chapter Fifteen :.

Little Bludger

Fenrir hadn't forgotten or gone back on his promise to go fetch Ron and Hermione – at least not exactly. Even though Harry suspected the alpha would seize any opportunity to escape his promise, he knew he was telling the truth when he'd told him the reason they must wait. The wolf had said that even if Harry promised to stay in the mountain where nothing could touch him, he had a way of finding trouble and he didn't think he could force himself to leave until Harry could at least defend himself with magic. Could harness it at will rather than hope he'd find it in a moment of panic.

Harry was working on that. He'd asked Accalia to help him as he'd once promised and so he'd sat in on the lessons the man usually gave the children. But it had been nearly two moons since Harry had agreed to that condition and he'd still not made any progress. This fact did not have a positive effect on his already temperamental mood. He wasn't talking to Fenrir again as of this morning, when the wolf had gruffly insinuated maybe Harry wasn't concentrating enough.

Those words had annoyed him most because he felt they might be a little true. He'd had six years of magical schooling. Granted wandless magic was something few wizards far older than he ever learned and werewolf magic, well it was something that apparently was never fully harnessed until after a much more extensive education. But he knew the truth of it was he'd thought it would be easier than this.

_Potions was always difficult but everything else I was fairly alright at, right off the bat, _he thought, loathing himself for how cocky that sounded, even in his head. Flying had been natural, Defence Against the Dark Arts had been as easy as breathing to him – hell, he'd been probably one of the youngest people ever to conjure a fully corporeal_ Patronus _charm.

_Why can't I conjure some acceptable sparks at least to get Fenrir to make good of his promise, _he thought wretchedly, before realising he was doing exactly what Fenrir accused him of earlier. Focusing so heartily on his lack of progress and everything else that was going on, that he wasn't paying attention at all. He glanced around him. Accalia's twins were sitting crossed legged and still as stone, eyes closed (like the rest of the students) and hanging on Accalia's every instruction. Even if they, along with the other younger children were only really there to get used to the formality of schooling.

They were all in (what Harry could only describe as) a meditation state; trying to 'feel the magic in the earth' they sat on, the grass that reached up around them despite the chilly time of year. Harry sighed. He'd never be able to do this. Hermione would've mastered it in a moment and probably also told him, much like the small voice in the back of his head was suggesting, that he couldn't progress because part of him didn't _want _to. Didn't want to because of what that would mean…

Slowly, without thinking his hand slid down to caress the slight bump in his tunic shirt. It was noticeable now, a small ball too defined and round to be mistaken for eating too much but still not as large as he should be, given how many moons he'd seen since that night. It still felt beyond peculiar, terrified him when he dared to let himself think of what might happen in just one more month. He swallowed hard and felt a sharp nudge inside him under his hand. It was as if the baby was trying to reassure him. He couldn't help but smile slightly.

Yes this was far from the best situation. He wasn't even sure if there _was_ a term for what he and Fenrir shared in the sane world he'd once belonged to. He was on the top of a death list for one of the most dangerous wizards alive, he didn't have a wand, he was sort of being held hostage/protected in the middle of a mountain in…Merlin only knew where. He was terrified out of his wits and clueless as to what to do with the baby once it came. But it was his, his family, a part of him that would love him more than anything, unconditionally.

_Mine, _he thought tenderly, smoothing his fingertips across his still small bump – the bludger, as he had affectionately nicknamed it, both after its size and the now frequent sharp movements it made.

An odd prickling sensation made him lift his head. He flushed deeply when he caught the gaze of the man watching him from across the clearing. Malfoy was sitting under the tree he himself had once taken refuge in, watching him with an impassive look on his face. Malfoy had physically recovered in his time here, survived the full moon thanks to the protection of Harry's scent and the security of wards on the den set up by Echo and Fenrir so that no one could enter until the moon had vanished from the sky. Still, somehow, the man had managed to avoid Harry most of the time, which was no mean feat seeing as Malfoy hadn't anywhere else to go – he didn't talk to anyone else either, didn't even eat with them at meal times.

Quietly excusing himself from the lesson, Harry gracelessly staggered to his feet, making his way over to his once classmate. Malfoy had isolated himself from everyone here despite their best efforts, it couldn't go on this way. A thousand thoughts on how to best deal with this thundered through his head as he reached the tree, yet the only thing he could manage when he opened his mouth was an awkward, "alright, Malfoy?"

The blond frowned up at him, closing the book he'd been holding. Harry assumed Echo must've given it to him, for the beta was the only one Harry had ever seen Malfoy even acknowledge – unavoidable, he supposed, seeing as Malfoy slept on a bed of furs in Echo's den. Hmm, yes, Harry had seen the unavoidable gleam in Echo's kind eyes. What had Amoux called it? Ah, yes, 'smitten'.

Smitten with Malfoy – the thought made him slightly uneasy. As much as Malfoy deserved someone to be there for him when it seemed he'd been used as a death eater punching bag for the last year or so, he didn't trust the blond not to be an absolute pretentious, bigoted twat.

"Daydreaming at school again, Potter?" Malfoy sneered, lifting his chin with arrogance that didn't quite meet his eyes. Harry sighed at the look of badly concealed fear and defeat. He didn't know what had happened to Malfoy in Voldemort's clutches, didn't need to, it was written in the very way he shied away, the way he sat and talked. He'd been tortured, mentally if not physically, lived in fear for a long, long time…

"I suppose at least Accalia can't give me detention," Harry said, gripping hold of the conversation now he had it with both hands, unwilling to let it go until he'd broken through Malfoy's cracked, crumbling guard. He sat down in front of the blond, who looked both horrified and confused. "Though he could probably give McGonagall a run for her money. He's a force to be reckoned with."

They both fell silent at the mention of McGonagall, at the reminder of Hogwarts and the boyhood war they'd waged on each other that now seemed to futile and pathetic. Bottom line was, Malfoy was completely alone here and Harry, he longed for something familiar, something separate from his increasingly appealing prison here. They needed each other. And besides which…

"Look, I haven't really had the chance to say it until now but…you know… Thank you, for saving me."

Those silver eyes were wide as they regarded him, lips moving soundlessly for a moment as Malfoy tried to find himself. "You and your child. Saving me in return from the punishment I was bound to receive only counts as one life debt, by the way," Malfoy said with his best air of arrogance. "I intend to collect a further debt on the life of your offspring I also saved."

Harry couldn't help it. It was all so familiar, so welcome a reminder of the world he felt so distanced from. He laughed. Malfoy looked disgruntled.

"Is that my purpose here now, Potter? To amuse the alpha's bitch?" he snapped.

Harry smirked. "Where did you learn that phrase, Malfoy?" The irritation and uncertainty didn't vanish from that slightly pointed face at his teasing tone, however and so Harry sighed heavily. They weren't friends, no, but it would be a lot easier if they at least tried to be. "Your purpose is whatever you want it to be. As soon as _He _is gone you're free to leave. This is a safehouse, not a prison." He wondered if the same applied to him once this was all over.

Malfoy snorted. "Yes, I'm sure your pet werewolves would be all to pleased to let me walk free."

"It's not like you saw where we are, or could even get in if we didn't open the door," Harry reasoned simply, "Only the pack can get in-"

"And you're pack? You and your litter?" Malfoy bit out. Harry grit his teeth, the wolf in him sensing the fear that was fuelling the vehemence. He'd got the man talking; he wasn't going to let him have his way by bickering with him the way he clearly wanted. Harry remained silent at that comment; they both did until the uneasy quiet irritated Malfoy into speech again.

"Is that what you're learning over there every day? How to be one of them?" he asked with quiet curiosity.

Harry relaxed slightly. He knew how Malfoy felt, a prisoner of the very path his life had taken, isolated and in need of answers he could trust from a familiar face. "Werewolves can use magic without wands. I have unfinished work to do with _Him, _work Fenrir will only help me with if he sees I can defend myself." He winced at the way those words sounded. "It's the whole 'mate' thing," he said by way of explanation.

Malfoy stared at him. "You realise you have the most dangerous werewolf in Britain wrapped around your little finger, Potter?" he said, aghast. "The power you wield without ever needing to raise a wand. Even _He _is scared of Greyback, Potter and you can get him to do whatever you want." He stared at Harry a moment before turning away to stare across the clearing, to where Fenrir was stripping a stag carcass with his bare claws. They both blanched at the sight.

"That power is so wasted on such a Gryffindor," Malfoy murmured. "This entire pack, they worship you. They adore you like a little bloody king." A frown creased that brow as the man turned back to face him. "Why on earth did you walk willingly to _Him _when you have a life of safety and comfort here? No one can touch you here."

Those words said a great deal more about Malfoy than they did about him, Harry thought and his gaze softened a little as he regarded his once-enemy. That was all Malfoy wanted really, safety, respect and comfort. How long had it been since he'd felt safe? Longer than Harry even, he suspected.

"_He _will tear the world apart to find me. I won't let anyone else die when I might be able to do something about it," he said.

Malfoy looked confused. "I never understood that about you, no sense of self-preservation, Potter," he murmured. "I can't believe you're still planning on facing _Him _again, even with whatever dark arts they are trying to teach you over there. Which, by the way, you will never grasp if you continue to be so easily distracted. Another thing I detested about you at school – no wonder we had so many blown up cauldrons in Potions."

Harry scoffed. "You try concentrating on new-fangled 'werewolf magic' when the weight of the bloody world is literally on your shoulders," he griped, trying to ignore the way Malfoy's gaze wandered curiously to his belly as he spoke. "Not to mention how frustrating it is to have been at this for nearly two months with _no _progress _at all_! I was at Hogwarts for six years before this! I'm seventeen! Surely I should have shown _some _sign of progress by now?"

Malfoy was staring at him confused again. Confused and disbelieving. "I don't pretend to be your closest comrade, Potter, but even I know that your birthday falls only shortly after mine."

Harry's brow knitted. Where was Malfoy going with this?

"It's September, Potter. You are _eighteen_. Good grief, how can you look after an infant if you can't even remember your own bloody birthday?"

"It's not like we have calendars here, Malfoy," Harry snarled, the comment about the baby striking a nerve. "We operate by the moon cycles. I just…_forgot_." He'd been eighteen for over a month and he hadn't realised? "And as for the baby, I've been told endlessly that the essentials of care come through instinct – both human and werewolf. Apparently the rest follows.

"What a crock of shit," Malfoy replied. "I take it you weren't aware you had this recessive lycanthrope gene Greyback spoke about when he first took you?"

Harry shook his head. "I reckon my parents would've told Remus if they'd known and he would've told me for sure, being what he is. It only awakens if you're bitten by a werewolf so there is a high chance they didn't know. Might've made all this easier to accept if we'd all known," he gestured to himself, "but can't be helped."

Malfoy looked contemplative. "You know, in the wizarding world it's fairly common for men to carry children by the use of invasive potions and spells. The only things that make this unique are that it happened naturally and you're the only way werewolves can have biological young."

"They didn't exactly teach that at Hogwarts," Harry muttered bitterly.

"It's just common knowledge. More than a few of our classmates have two male parents. Perhaps you ought to consider the possibility that you are just incredibly dense, Potter. It might be better for you if you stay in your nice cave with your pet wolves."

Harry gave a small, wistful smile. "It's not so bad here, Malfoy. You might even like it if you let yourself." He paused, wondering if he should mention Echo's inadvisable crush on Malfoy, but then decided against it. It wasn't his secret to tell. "Come to the dinner circle tonight and you'll see how readily you're accepted-"

"What if I don't _want _to be accepted, Potter? What if I just want to keep as far away as possible until it's safe to get out of here?"

"Well, I am 'incredibly dense' after all, if you rely on only my conversation for company until the end of the war, you might just go mad," Harry mused, getting to his feet (with no small amount of difficulty). He should be getting back really, he did have a lesson to attend and he felt oddly _lighter _after his conversation with Malfoy. He might even be able to concentrate.

"Incidentally," he began as he started to head toward Accalia and the children again, "Once this is all over, nothing will stop you from being free. I promise you."

Malfoy stared at him. "And what about you, Potter, when this is all over are you going to play happy families with Fenrir Greyback?"

Momentarily silenced by how bad that sounded, Harry frowned. He hadn't thought about life after Voldemort outside of this place for a long time. Not really. He'd thought about ending Voldemort, thought about what would happen when the baby came but nothing beyond that. "I always wanted a family. I just didn't think it would happen this way," he said at last.

"That's not an answer, Potter," Malfoy said. But that was just it – Harry didn't have one.

* * *

It was now a week before the full moon – the October full moon. He'd managed a higher degree of concentration in Accalia's lessons and made a fraction of progress. It seemed like a lot, but it still wasn't enough. If he concentrated hard, a sharp breeze of white-hot magic rushed through the clearing and he could even manage a wandless _Lumos. _He'd managed to light fire now at will, just a little flicker like a muggle candle lighter – but nothing else. Nothing he could actually use and nowhere near enough to convince the wolf in Fenrir that he could be left alone while he went to fetch Hermione and Ron.

He was beginning to despair. Even Malfoy had taken pity on him and tried teaching him various concentration techniques he'd used in Charms and non-verbal spells in Defence Against the Dark Arts back at Hogwarts.

During one lesson, Accalia had even suggested they all take off their clothes in order to bring them closer to the magic of the earth they were trying to draw power from (much to Harry's horror). Today the ground was damp with yesterday's rain, however and the air was sharp with September cold, so they remained clothed. Instead they threaded their fingers through the grass, trying to draw the magic up into themselves in an exercise aiming to warm their skin with its heat.

Vilkas, who had been sitting among them had lost interest long ago and toddled off, not that Harry blamed him. He clenched his eyes shut in an attempt to concentrate. He clenched his fingers in the dewy grass, gritting his teeth. _Beyond pathetic, Potter – DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! _He felt an effervescent heat rush up from his core, sending odd little zaps through his synapses. It was there alright, he just needed to get at it.

Thinking of all the people that needed him, Ron, Hermione, Remus, the people that had needed him and he'd lost. He grit his teeth again. Losing anyone else wasn't an option. A few strands of grass loosened from the moist earth. It felt like popping candy going off under his skin now. It was just there, right there. He could taste its metallic heat on his tongue like blood.

A shriek of delight rushed through his ears. His eyes flew open, concentration broken as he spied Vilkas scrambling up the tree he'd once taken refuge in. It didn't appear anyone else was taking much notice of him, one of Accalia's twins had begun throwing a tantrum, screaming at the top of her lungs. Harry frowned. How could something so small and innocent looking make such a foul noise? His hand moved to his belly as it often did now, wondering just how he would manage tantrums, tears, shit and vomit. He cringed. It seemed to come so naturally to Accalia.

A blood-chilling scream tore through the air then, dragging Harry back to reality like a clap of lightning. He saw the world move in slow motion as everyone else turned toward the sound. Vilkas slipped on the topmost branch, the bark damp from the rain and sending him hurtling toward the ground.

Everybody around him surged into panic. Amoux screamed from somewhere across the clearing, but before the sound had even finished leaving her lips, Harry felt the sting of the magic that had been bubbling beneath his skin erupt. Like glass shattering, it burst into the air, barrelling towards the falling boy in a thousand glistening prisms of light. Vilkas stared, wide-eyed and in shock as he was halted a few feet off the ground, surrounded by the ball of animate light.

It took everyone a moment to realise what had happened – even Harry himself. He blinked, his magic bobbing gently towards them like a little boat on a calm stream. There was chatter all around him as Vilkas came to hover just in front of them. Amoux flew forwards but Accalia stopped her. "Wait," he said quickly, glancing from Harry to Vilkas, who was prodding in awe at the sparkly bubble surrounding him, the myriad of colours that was Harry's magic.

"Harry, bring Vilkas closer," Accalia said carefully, as if the slightest movement would break whatever connection Harry had managed to accomplish.

Harry swallowed. He didn't even know how he'd done it! Months of straining for some sort of result and it had just happened! He grit his teeth again. The bubble wavered and he panicked. Amoux edged closer to the bubble, ready to catch her son if he fell again this time. Her eyes were tear-flecked and everyone was watching. Now the immediate danger was over, Harry felt the buzzing energy that had risen to the occasion dwindle. He struggled to hold onto it.

"Come on, Harry," Accalia whispered, "you don't have a wand to direct the magic, you need to use your mind. _You _are the only vessel you need for magic. You don't need a wand. Picture what you want in your mind and make it happen." When Harry looked doubtful, Accalia continued. "Earth magic grows stronger the more you want it. _Do it._"

Vilkas was over his shock now it seemed, giggling and reaching for Harry. There was no dire need now, it was only as important as Harry made it, to pull the boy towards him with magic. He grimaced, trying to remember how it felt to channel magic through his body to the phoenix feather wand he'd been missing for so long.

_A wizard that faced down Tergarletum at only a year old doesn't need a silly stick for power, _Fenrir had grunted at him only this morning. Harry stared unblinking at the bubble of light and the child that reached to him from within. The shield flickered as if it might die before glowing brighter than ever and gliding slowly towards him.

"That's it!" Accalia exclaimed. The bubble popped as Harry reached up into it and Vilkas threw his arms around his neck with a squeal. He immediately went to his mother for simultaneous scolding and kissing.

"Thanks heavens!" Amoux cried, her son wriggling unhappily under her smothering. "Oh, Harry thank you – thank you so much! If it weren't for you I – I panicked I just–"

"Don't worry," Harry assured her, a little embarrassed. "It's fine, really. He's safe, that's all that matters." He couldn't help but smile as she kissed her son's head again. Vilkas squirmed and grunted his displeasure. Amoux had only taken her eyes off of him for a moment and Vilkas had gotten into trouble. Harry brushed his fingers over his swollen stomach. If his child was anything like him or Fenrir, he was in for a world of trouble.

"It seems your power manifests best when faced with your strongest characteristic," Accalia said as the small crowd dispersed into their own chattering groups, dismissing themselves from their lesson after the excitement. Only he, Amoux, Vilkas and Harry remained as they were "It's your need to save people," Accalia continued. "We just need to harness that, to build on it so that you can use it at will – or at least to save _yourself_ should the need arise."

"To save time, we just need to manipulate that hero complex of his," a voice said from the side.

Both Harry and Accalia turned to see Ulric striding towards them. _Arrogant as alway_s, Harry thought. He glared at the man who he thought had never really liked him as he continued to speak.

"If you focus on protecting the cub inside you, any spell that you cast to protect it will protect you also," he explained in his usual coarse voice, his worldly eyes cold and unreadable. "I think he will find it easier to call on his power to protect the cub than himself," he said, addressing Accalia but not tearing his eyes from Harry. They roved his softly swollen belly thoughtfully. It made Harry uncomfortable. He still made a point of avoiding this man wherever possible; even after all the months he'd been here.

Staring back at the man, he snorted. "So you're suggesting you stand there and what? Throw things at my stomach until I can protect myself?"

"Well, why the hell not if it works?" Ulric replied sharply, looking down into Harry's face. He was nearly as tall and bulky as Fenrir despite his age, almost as intimidating. Even if Harry himself wasn't afraid of him, his instincts made him want to curl on the ground around his belly and hide it from the wolf standing so brazenly in his personal space. But he raised his chin defiantly, ignoring the urge.

"It will work. From what I saw then," Ulric continued, "and from what we all saw back when you saved the alpha from that rogue wolf atop the waterfall. No one will be able to touch you-"

"Fenrir wants proof of that though before he leaves," Harry argued, before straightening up despite himself. "So help me prove it," he challenged.

A wicked grin crept across the old wolf's face. He hunkered down onto all-fours without tearing his gaze from Harry's and all too quickly, his smirking mouth shifted into a grey, furry muzzle. The bottom of Harry's stomach fell out – or it felt like it. His eyes widened and his heart stopped at the sight of the great brown wolf standing in front of him. He was still readjusting to Fenrir's wolf and _this_ was too much. Despite himself, he was shaking, his insides _hurt _they were so tight with fear.

Beside him, unnoticed by him, Amoux began to move toward him, but Accalia halted her with a shake of his head.

"But he is _really _afraid, Accalia," Amoux murmured, uncertain as she watched the exchange.

Harry barely heard them. His heart was pounding ferociously in his chest. He slammed his eyes shut, trying to get a grip on himself, but the sense-memories from _that _night swept over him. The feel of an unyielding muzzle, of hot canine breath and a huge furred body holding him down…

He stumbled back when Ulric bared his fangs and advanced slowly, stalked towards him. Harry staggered, dropping onto his arse and shaking his head as he struggled to do something – anything. It was too much – he was too close.

"Stop!" He hissed. Ulric merely gave an answering snarl, still coming for him. He was so close!

Harry's entire body shook with tremors, the hairs on the back of his neck raising up as he remembered so vividly the feel of monstrous paws scraping at his flesh. Strong forelegs gripping his waist, hot wolf breath disturbing his hair and the pain – the degradation, the unwanted, demeaning pleasure as he screamed…

Huge paws were disturbing the earth as their owner stalked him, Harry could hear them without having to look. He could hear the way the ground gave way beneath their weight, feel that presence and it made his stomach churn. His stomach. He curled in on himself, wrapping his arms and knees around his belly. He couldn't do it. He needed to get away but he couldn't move. Needed to put distance between him and the wolf!

"Stop it!" he screamed. The wolf was right there in front of him – jaws wide – about to lunge. "No!"

Suddenly the world around him erupted with an electrical explosion. The very air crackled like lightning, a great nuclear wave resonating from Harry's voice. Harry's eyes flew open, and even dazzled by the golden light he saw Ulric thrown into a backwards somersault through the air. He landed on his paws with a scrabble, snarling gleefully before bolting towards him again, faster this time.

Harry flinched, throwing his hands up instinctively in defence and the light burned, shoving Ulric back again – and again and again. Harry was panting heavily on his knees in the dirt, one hand supporting his body and the other in an instinctual shield around his midsection. That last time he sent Ulric into the dirt, dust flying, he hadn't even moved his hands.

The light was fading now slowly. Coloured spots were still twinkling behind his eyes from the severe strength of it and sweat beaded across his brow. But he'd shoved the wolf away at least twelve times just then, or was it thirteen? He blinked as the crumpled heap of fur staggered upright once more. Fur stood up on end, smoking slightly. That muzzle was scuffed but those pearly white fangs were visible in an almost grin. Shifting back, Ulric rolled up onto his human feet, covered in dirt and singe-marks. He bore an oddly satisfied smirk as he regarded Harry.

"Right," he said with the air of a man intrigued by his latest experiment, "now use it without me diving at you this time – do it!"

Harry stared at him, disconcerted for a moment. Then his fingers curled into the dirt, his eyes clenched shut and his jaw set. He couldn't say how he did it other than the adrenaline still running through his blood, making his head, heart and lungs pound frantically, allowing him to seize what he wanted. He didn't want Ulric to dive for him again, didn't want to give him a reason to be the wolf again and he _willed _it to be so. Willed it with all his being.

The golden light flickered once, twice before erecting like a great prism around him. It held solid for a few moments, shining like gossamer and gold dust. A droplet of sweat trickled off the end of Harry's nose. He shoved his glasses back onto his face more securely. The light died.

"Again!" Ulric demanded, shifting as if he might move closer.

The golden shard shimmered back to life again, more quickly than before and stronger before it died. Harry gave a great gasping smile. He called it back again without waiting for Ulric's prompt. It lasted longer this time. His adrenaline had lowered now, his heart rate and breathing easing back to normality. His muscles ached and his fear abated but the shield was stronger still. He had it!

"Come on!" He grunted through clenched teeth, his fingernails rooted in the earth as he summoned the shield and stared at its electrical, crackling surface, holding it there with nothing more now that sheer, bloody-minded determination. "Try and push through it!" he called to Ulric. The werewolf nodded, still panting himself as he hesitantly reached out. His humanoid fingers sizzled as they touched the surface and he snatched them back instantly.

"I can feel the impenetrable power from here," Ulric said, and Harry knew that meant there was no way they could get to him unless they took it down. He nodded his understanding and (careful to keep the barrier erect) slowly moved to his feet. There was a peculiar burning under his skin. He was sweating as if he'd run a marathon but the prism was still there, as strong and bright as ever. He felt it stabilise around him. He could hold it more easily with each passing moment.

A thrill of exhilaration similar to what he'd felt when he'd cast the _Patronus Charm_ completely that first time swept through him. He'd _done _it!

Glancing around, he saw that Accalia, Amoux, Vilkas, Malfoy and Echo were all there now watching him among most of the rest of the pack. Malfoy's eyes locked with his and he bent, picking up a small branch and launching it at the shield. It combusted on contact, the ash remains drifting uselessly to the ground. The blond looked impressed – they all did. Harry could not help but smile.

"I can hold it now," he confirmed for them, looking down at himself. He looked the same but he felt…_free_. Independent and strong as he hadn't felt for so long. The most powerful he had felt since he'd found out he was pregnant. He still winced slightly at the thought, even as his hand moved lightly over his stomach.

It was clear as day to him and anyone else that watched. The adrenaline came from his fear of the wolf form, his desire to avoid it at all costs but it was his need to protect the baby that enabled him to turn all of that into magic. The baby was bouncing around happily inside him, its sheer excitement at the feel of his magic rushing through Harry in waves.

Noticing then that Ulric was holding his hand to his chest, Harry frowned and moved forwards, dropping the shield as he did so. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking at the seared flesh.

Ulric gave an arrogant sneer of a smirk. "Could you do it again at a moments notice?"

Harry nodded.

"Then I'm fine," Ulric said and turned his head to call over his shoulder, "You saw it yourself, he's ready. Nothing is touching him or that cub."

Harry followed his line of sight and found himself staring at Fenrir, who looked torn between anger and concern. He stalked forwards, seizing hold of Ulric's throat.

"Fenrir, wait!" Harry called but the alpha had already drawn Ulric in close as he seethed.

"If you ever incite so much as a whiff of fear like that in my sub again I'll rip out your tongue," he snarled, dropping the man back to his feet and shoving him away forcefully.

"Fenrir," Harry began, "he was just–"

"I know what he was doing!" Fenrir snarled, spit flying in his rancour. He turned back to Ulric then, as if the sight of Harry only increased his ire. "And while I disagree with what you did, I am indebted to you, Ulric – thank you."

Ulric gave a small understanding bow of his head. "It needed to be done. I have found it…_difficult _in accepting the Alpha Numero but he has proved himself and no doubt will again, just as you proved yourself as the best leader for this pack time after time."

Harry blinked. Some things he would never understand about werewolves, he thought. They beat the shit out of each other and proclaimed their loyalty and affection to each other in the same breath. How the tables had turned. It had now come to Ulric singing Harry's praises and Fenrir avoiding his gaze, shifting away from him as if he were the source of a bad smell.

_What the fuck? _This morning when Fenrir had left the breakfast circle he'd departed Harry's company with the customary (almost affectionate) possessive caress of his throat as always. Now he looked positively furious with him. Why? Because he could _finally _use magic again?

_Because you're independent of him, _his mind supplied. _Because you don't need him. _He frowned at that. He did need him. He needed him a lot.

"Fenrir," he began, but the wolf cut across him.

"You do what is right by me and the pack in the end, you always have," Fenrir said to Ulric. "That's why I'm trusting you to watch over Harry and the human when I leave. Echo will be in charge of the pack."

Ulric inclined his head a fraction, glancing from Harry to Malfoy to Fenrir again. "Of course, but…leave to go where, Alpha?"

Fenrir's back stiffened. That was all Harry could see of him now and he felt his own anger and frustration rising in him the longer the alpha refused to face him.

"It's only a few days until the full moon – I'll leave to bring Hemming, Lupa and the humans back after the moon has passed. Marrok and Raquelle will come with me." He paused and Harry had the impression that Fenrir would've glanced back at him if he hadn't been so determined to avoid eye-contact.

"Do you think you can keep my mate and his pet human out of trouble for a few days?"

Ulric smirked. "_Tergarletum_ himself could not get through the shield the Alpha Numero just erected," he said, with a peculiar air of pride. "But yes, I will watch him – and the blond. I'll keep their noses clean."

Harry met Malfoy's eyes and saw that he was wearing a scowl to match Harry's own, but wisely kept silent. The blond had put up with worse insult from Voldemort, Harry supposed and had to remain quiet in the face of it all. Harry, however, didn't.

"If it will only take you a few days go now and you'll be back before then," Harry snapped, his tone forcing Fenrir to turn to face him. "Go and get it over with."

Fenrir sneered. "Gladly, but our arses are perched on a double-edged sword. My instincts are too high this close to the moon to force myself away from my needy pregnant mate but the longer we wait, the closer it comes to the cub's arrival. You're lucky I can force myself to leave at all. Sorry you'll have to wait for the reprieve."

Harry snarled. Emotions were running high for everyone with the moon approaching and the cub in his belly but he wasn't going to be Fenrir's outlet for that. "Pity," he hissed, so that only Fenrir could hear, "because I don't intend to spend a minute longer with you in this stinking mood anyway, so you may as well make use of your time elsewhere."

He turned, stalking in the other direction (away from Fenrir and towards where Malfoy, Accalia and the others stood) but Fenrir whirled him around, his fist closed tight around his arm. Werewolves were always heavy-handed, especially around the full moon but Accalia and Amoux had told him enough times that subs were built to take it – take it and give as good as they got.

Harry snapped at his mate as if _he_ were the one with fangs, wrenching himself out of Fenrir's grip so hard that he staggered back, stumbling into Malfoy, who awkwardly steadied him on his feet. Harry never tore his eyes away from Fenrir's. "Don't touch me," he growled, "you can't turn your back on me and talk about me like I'm not there, then stop me when I want to leave. I'm not your whipped dog."

Fenrir dove for him again and this time Harry, fatigued from the extensive use of magic for the first time in months fell back, taking Malfoy with him. They landed on a heap in the floor so that when Fenrir descended on them, he was a threat to them both. Harry could take (and fight off) whatever he threw, Malfoy couldn't. Before Harry could even summon his magic, however, a snarl from above and a flash of tawny coloured fur sent Fenrir rolling back.

Echo was between them and Fenrir, his head bowed a fraction to the side in apology, but his fangs bared all the same. Harry blinked and out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw Malfoy flush. He'd had his suspicions, but this was…

Fenrir roared in anger. With emotions running so high, he obviously hadn't made the connection as to why Echo was standing between him and the two young men. He only saw a wolf between him and his mate.

"Potter," Malfoy gasped in his ear, "Do something – Greyback is going to tear him apart!" The blond's voice was low yet urgent, scared for Echo rather than himself. It was such a startlingly sweet notion coming from the most unlikely source that it stunned Harry into stillness. And just like that, Harry's anger abated. Swallowing back his fear, Harry rolled forwards onto his feet. The bludger-sized bulge wasn't enough to hinder his quidditch-honed and werewolf enhanced speed. Biting back the quaver of fear, he moved nimbly between the two wolves as they faced off.

When Echo saw him he shifted warily backwards, until he was standing next to Malfoy, who looked flushed and confused still – as if he wasn't sure if he was afraid of Echo in this state or not. Fenrir, however, still refused to acknowledge Harry and seemed intent on walking over him, until Harry dropped down to his knees, knotting his fingers in the fur of Fenrir's forelegs.

Inhaling deeply, Harry sent a sharp shock of electric power through his fingertips. From the way Fenrir's gaze snapped down to him, he thought it might've been a bit fiercer than he intended. Fenrir bent his neck so that those burning blue eyes met his on his level and Harry held that gaze, straightening up on his knees so that his belly brushed against Fenrir's nose. It was enough to quell the ferocious anger in those eyes. Like sand thrown on a fire.

Fenrir gave a small apologetic huff, for Harry's ears only and nudged him gently until he was sprawled back on his arse. Harry had to plant his hands on the ground to keep himself upright while Fenrir sniffed him, searching for harm he had caused. Harry sighed. Emotions really were running too high. A moon heat was bad enough but with the added stress of everything else…

If he looked in those eyes, the presence of the wolf almost didn't affect him – almost. He raised a hand slowly and caressed Fenrir's muzzle in acceptance of his apology, holding on so that Fenrir could help him rise to his feet. Once he was upright, he let go with an awkward pat on that furry neck, only just remembering that everyone was watching.

As Fenrir changed back, he gave Harry a look that was a clear request to follow him. Harry nodded, blushing at the sight of his mate naked under the sun. Harry glanced to where Echo and Malfoy stood and was delighted to see Malfoy was just as uncomfortable as him regarding Ulric, Echo and Fenrir's nakedness.

"Part of being humans among the pack," he said to the blond, who flushed darker and said nothing in return. Harry couldn't resist moving closer to taunt him as Echo awkwardly distanced himself to redress (more for Malfoy's sake than his own, Harry knew, being as the pack could care less about nudity).

"Let me know when you're ready to run naked with them on the full moon," Harry mused quietly in Malfoy's ear.

Malfoy looked both aghast and intrigued at once at the notion. "You are a disgusting little pervert, Potter," he snapped under his breath. "I have no affixation with bestiality, unlike some."

Harry laughed, although the sound was slightly hollowed by the recollection of the one time he _had_ been aroused by Fenrir as a wolf. He shuddered, shoving the image aside sharply. "Running with them isn't sexual, it's a rush though, I'll admit," he smiled, unable to forget the freedom it had instilled in him before, no matter how he feared it now.

It was a mixture of being free, completely and utterly untouched by worry or duty. A warm embrace, a warm fire in winter. It wasn't any one thing – but all of them at once that (for a werewolf) could only be found under the moon with someone else. How could he explain to Malfoy, how much it meant to someone like Echo?

It was an odd discussion, embarrassing, but Malfoy wasn't like him, wasn't required by nature to have sex with a wolf under the moon for breeding purposes. He was terrified but he wanted Echo and had no one to turn to for advice except him. He swallowed uncertainly, determined to do his best. Malfoy was a selfish little ponce at times, but he deserved support from _somewhere. Especially as I doubt Mr and Mrs Malfoy would encourage his love interest with a werewolf_, he thought.

"It's not about sex, it's about connection," he said at last, noting the way Malfoy arched an elegant brow in disbelief. Harry pressed on. "They're uninhibited by anything, only what they want. They're free. It's very personal, all of it." He scratched the back of his hair uneasily. "Look, you've hidden away with me every full moon since you got here. You're covered with their scent – all of them and I have my magic back now. We might be able to do something so that you could be with Echo under the moon – if you wanted."

Malfoy's usually pale, pointed face was positively beet red now. Harry stared at him stone-faced, trying hard not to let his own embarrassment show. "Your decision, Malfoy, I'm just offering," he said, turning to leave.

"Potter."

That voice stilled him, but he didn't turn.

"If you're so afraid of them when they're wolves…" Draco paused, obviously searching for the right words. Harry _knew _that Echo had told him why he so feared the full moon, the sight of them as wolves, but they had never discussed it until now.

"How could you bear being so close to them? How could you stand the blow to your pride, kneeling at his feet like that?" Draco asked quietly.

It was then that Harry turned. "Their emotions and instincts run high around the full moon," he explained simply. "If you want Echo enough, you'll have to forsake your pride during that time. The rest of the time, it's an even sacrifice of pride on both sides to make it work."

Draco looked at him thoughtfully, not admitting or denying his attraction to the beta wolf. "You're trying to tell me things between you and _Fenrir Greyback _are equal?" he asked. "Does he make just as much sacrifice for you? I didn't see much just then."

Harry smirked despite himself. "Well I know what a self-righteous, troublesome pain in the arse I can be – you should know that first hand. So yeah, it probably works out about equal in the end." He was worried Draco might repeat his question of what Harry intended to do after the war was over, regarding Fenrir, but he didn't. After a moment of stretched, uncomfortable silence, he moved to follow Fenrir again, but Draco's grip on his arm stilled him. When he looked back to the blond again, those silvery eyes were positively anxious.

"What you said…before," the blond began awkwardly. "You think you could do it? That I could… I don't want to be a werewolf, Potter, but I want him."

Harry wondered if that made any sort of relationship between him and Echo possible, but then, he couldn't expect Draco to make such a sacrifice for a man he didn't even know that well. He knew what Draco felt – he and every wolf could sense the tension in the air. There was the raw attraction between Draco and Echo, empathy and connection of being thrown together. Maybe there would be more but until then, he supposed Draco was being sensible and actually quite mature considering his childhood prejudice against anything less than pureblood wizard.

Besides which, he doubted Echo would be the sort to want or require his partner to change for him. He supposed he would have to let them decide that among themselves. If there was anything he hated most of all, it was people getting involved and trying to make decisions for him. He wasn't going to be that person to Draco or Echo for that matter.

"It's all about scent with werewolves during the moon. Scent and claiming. I claimed you, like I claimed Ghost." He glanced over to where the wolf was sprawled out enjoying the rare sunshine a few feet away. He wagged his tail happily at the sight of Harry looking at him.

Draco bristled. "So I'm like a dog to you, Potter?"

Harry snorted. "Don't be an arse, Malfoy. The point is you're not the first human to want to be with a werewolf. You've been claimed by the pack, you smell like one of the pack, perhaps we just need a bit of magic to enhance both of those features?"

Draco nodded rigidly. "And you'll be with me when I take my first steps out there, just in case, I assume?" The blond grinned. "As I thought. You may be a self-righteous, selfless twit, Potter, but you have your own means to achieve too. You want to walk out under the moon again and you want someone with you when you try. Someone who isn't drugged up on the moon."

Harry flushed, opening his mouth to try and justify himself, for Draco was right, just a little bit, but the blond beat him to it.

"If I'd known you were so Slytherin, Potter, we might have begun to get along some time ago," he said with a smirk, before turning, leaving Harry to stand there stunned for a moment. That was, until he remembered he'd agreed to follow Fenrir a few moments ago now. He felt considerably lighter now his pent-up hormones had been unleashed via magic and their recent argument. Though he could tell from what he was sensing from Fenrir now, that the wolf had something more mutually satisfying in mind to help relieve the tension.

He couldn't help the little thrill of anticipation that ran up his spine. And quite altruistically, he wondered how happy it would make Fenrir to hear of his decision to try and run with him under the moon again. _Merlin help me, _he thought, but could not help but smile.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure how exactly Fenrir had persuaded him into this rather embarrassing position but he supposed it was as the man had always said; there was no one to witness nor judge what they did but each other. That and Fenrir had been in such a good mood since Harry had told him that he intended to leave the seclusion of their den on the full moon (due in just a few short hours) that he just hadn't had the heart to refuse.

_That and he's leaving in the morning, on my bidding and it doesn't feel right, _his mind supplied. He almost wished _that_ particular effect of moon heat lasted beyond tonight – the not caring or concerning themselves with anything beyond each other. It was so much simpler that way. Then he could just ask Fenrir to stay. But he couldn't.

Warm breath dusted his ear and he shuddered as neatly trimmed stubble tickled the shell. "You're anxious, pet," Fenrir whispered in his usual rough, hoarse murmur. His huge arms tightened around him, his nose nuzzling into Harry's damp hair. He was tense all of a sudden, having obviously misinterpreted Harry's silence. "You don't have to go through with it tonight if you don't want to."

They were laying in the steaming, warm pool of a bath in the den. Greyback was leaning against the edge while Harry had been persuaded (somehow) to lay sprawled across him, his legs open either side of Fenrir's, his head back against his mate's shoulder. Those large hands were softly smoothing the comforting water over his stomach. It was a very normal, ordinary position. His skin ached and his muscles burned all day every day now. Amoux said it was his body preparing for what it would go through in a few weeks time. The water helped though.

_That and Fenrir assures me part of the alpha mate's duty is to attend to such ailments. _The thought made him smirk. It was all still unnerving – terrifying even, but in moments like this, it was easier.

"I'm just nervous. I know I don't have a moon heat as such but I still feel…_something _under the moon, that should help with any lasting inhibitions, right?" he murmured. The last few moons he'd just been wrought with shivers and aching muscles, yearning for Fenrir's presence, desperate for it to the point of pain.

Fenrir splashed water up over his chest, his callous thumbs flicking his recently oversensitive nipples. Harry gasped, his fingertips digging into Fenrir's muscled thighs. It was only _just _this side of painful, but then, Fenrir knew that, hence the dark chuckle in his flushed ear.

"If it's what you truly want, you'll be fine tonight," was all the wolf said, massaging his chest and shoulders with effective firmness. Harry groaned. Then his mate added more seriously, "I won't hurt you. But if I make you feel overwhelmed at any point tonight, use magic to escape me if you need to."

Harry froze. "You're giving me permission to use magic on you? But you had wizard magic–"

"You're not a wizard," Fenrir said quickly, as if he weren't really keen on the idea of his mate using magic against him. Whether werewolf or wizard magic, it went against the grain to use magic on each other, Harry had learned that from Accalia in his first lesson…

"I know you won't hurt me, I won't need to," Harry said after a moment or two, staring down at where those hands now caressed either side of his bump. He thought he'd seen Fleur's belly-button flip inside out the last time she'd flaunted her pregnant stomach at them all. Would his not do the same just because he was a man? Or maybe his bump just wouldn't get big enough? _She must've had her baby by now, _he realised with a pang. He and Ron had joked about Bill panicking upon being struck by fatherhood for the first time. But it he'd ended up missing it and the birth of Remus and Tonks' baby too…

A fluttering brush of movement inside drew him back to the present. Fenrir's hands shifted to follow the movement. He could _feel _the stubbly smile at his neck. Yes. Maybe if things had been different he would actually have chosen this life for himself. Just maybe. It was becoming harder and harder to imagine things turning out any differently these days; to imagine life without the pack, Fenrir and his little bludger.

As if sensing his thoughts, the baby thumped him harder this time and Harry gasped. How could something so small be so strong – werewolf or not?

"Mmm. My son is ready to be born soon," Fenrir chuckled.

"_When I think about it, I picture a son in my head."_ Fenrir had said that and stuck with it ever since. Harry wondered if the wolf was right. It was hard to think about it as anything but a tiny pink wriggly body at the moment. Eithne had told him all of the gory details her own son (Fenrir's 'mother') had enlightened her with so he was prepared as was possible. It hadn't really helped any, to know all of it, in fact he felt even more daunted by the prospect of leaving a lot of it to 'instinct'.

"It won't call me mum will it?" he asked, trying to push away the image Eithne had unwittingly woven in his mind.

Fenrir snorted. "He'll call you whatever you want him to."

Harry smirked, closing his eyes as those rough hands seemed to speak in hand signals to his little bludger. It felt nice. Like what a real family should have been like. He wondered if his parents ever sat like this when his mum was having him. "What did you call your parents?" he asked, relaxed, that was, until he felt the body beneath him stiffen and the hands on his stomach freeze.

There was silence for a long time.

"Alpha," Fenrir said slowly, deliberately, as if each syllable was too heavy to carry off his tongue, "and dad."

Harry had a really, really hard time imagining what Fenrir must've been like as an infant but the ominous echo of Eithne's words haunted him.

"_Fenrir was forced to grow up very quickly after seeing his family butchered like cattle before his very eyes. He hasn't been able to express his affection easily since that day, and like you, has feared opening himself up completely, lest he lose everything all over again."_

If Hermione had been here, she probably would have thwacked him for his insensitive, bumbling curiosity. He swallowed hard and squirmed in the man's lap to face him. Kneeling over him once more, he could now look down into his face. He frowned at the aggression he saw there. If he hadn't known better, he wouldn't have recognised it for hurt and mourning.

"We're both orphans you know," he said, not knowing what else to say. It was a fact, not a comfort, but what comforting words were there for this situation? "We both watched our parents die–"

"You were too young to be able to remember yours dying," Fenrir said sharply, trying to shove him off. In what was perhaps a low move, Harry seized those hands and put them back on his belly. Little bludger thumped against one hard, stilling Fenrir for a moment. The man's words had stung, but Harry had dealt with worse from Snape and at least this he understood.

Fenrir was angry because he thought what he felt was a weakness. He was angry because he'd lost them and hadn't been able to stop it. Harry knew what that anger felt like – he could still taste it when he thought about Sirius.

"Do you know what a dementor is?" Harry asked bluntly, before Fenrir's glare made him remember – _of_ _course _he had, he was in Azkaban with them! _Idiot!_ Licking his lips in awkwardness, he ploughed on. "They made me relive it – as crystal clear as if I were seeing it all over again at thirteen years old instead of one. So I saw and heard it all." The thought of what the dementors must have made Fenrir relive made him falter then. He winced, continuing.

"I'm sure you heard what happened in the Department of Mysteries as well," he added, more quiet and subdued now. It was all coming out wrong.

"Yeah, your godfather – great sport that was in _His _circle, how Black's death affected you," Fenrir said bitterly. "Lestrange used to chant it to herself, that she killed him – even when no one was there to listen…"

Harry grit his teeth. That wasn't what this was about. He was meant to be making Fenrir feel better, not making himself feel worse. "I… I watched him die – he was right next to me. He…he died because he came to save me…"

Silence.

And then…

"His cell wasn't that far from mine," Fenrir muttered, his expression slightly distant but just as grave. "When I'd howl and tear myself apart during the full moon – frenzied because I couldn't hunt, rut or run, I'd hear an animal trying to communicate to me. I thought I was going mad at the time. Wasn't until I got out and heard that Pettigrew rat boasting to another Death Eater how he revealed Black as a dog animagus that I realised it must've been him though."

Fenrir snorted then. "I bet Black wouldn't have concerned himself with me if he'd known who he was comforting though. We never saw anything but the four walls of our cell, see, so no one knew what was going on. No one except Dementors came near our end of the prison. The so-called 'food' was spelled in and waste was spelled out." He grimaced.

Harry frowned. "Sirius was a good man, he wasn't a murderer – but then I s'pose you know that if you heard Pettigrew… But yeah, anyway, he knew what werewolves suffered if they weren't allowed to run free with their instincts, he probably would've helped you even if he knew that you were – oh."

Shit.

Fenrir's face was empty and stern again now.

_If Sirius knew that he was the wolf that ruined Remus' life, _his mind supplied. He inhaled sharply. It suddenly felt wrong to be staring into Fenrir's face and thinking of Sirius. Sirius would've killed him. _He would kill me if he saw me now, like this, _he thought, biting the inside of his mouth and pushing slowly off of Fenrir's lap. Two hands gripped his arms, holding him in place. Harry forced himself to look up into those sharp blue eyes. Fenrir had once said he would've taken what he did to Remus back, Harry believed him. And the thing with Bill wasn't all it had appeared at first but…

But it still happened. He exhaled shakily. Closing his eyes so that he didn't have to see Fenrir's face. _"Can you not see it in his eyes? He fears losing you just as he lost them." _

"You hurt my friends; Bill and Remus."

"Yes," Fenrir said unequivocally.

Harry nodded. "This is so fucked up."

A low, reassuring and apologetic growl rumbled gently from Fenrir's lips. Harry opened his eyes once more.

"They're never going to understand what's going on here between you and me," Harry whispered, his own hand dipping down to touch the bump. It finally hit him then that tomorrow Fenrir was heading out to bring Ron and Hermione to him. They would see what he had been up to the last few months. They would know that he…

Shit.

The grip on his arms tightened.

"They don't have to understand – few humans _could _understand the things we feel, pet," Fenrir murmured, his voice slightly softened now at the sight of Harry's confusion. "They just have to accept it. What we have done cannot be undone." He looked fierce all of a sudden. "And I wouldn't allow it to be, even if it could."

Harry struggled to escape the intensity of that gaze but failed. He turned his head away instead, staring at the steam rising from the water around them. "You don't understand, they'll _hate _me. They'll think I've gone bloody mad!"

"Look here," Fenrir said sharply, shaking him a little to ensure he had his full attention. "I don't know or care about the inner workings of a wizard's mind, but if they give two flying fucks about you they'll get over it. Got it? Don't make yourself or my son ill by worrying about such bloody stupid things! I won't allow it!"

Harry glared at him.

"I can't turn my emotions off! I care whether they hate me or not, alright? They matter to me. So they should matter to you!"

"Humans don't live that long, they get over things much quicker than magical creatures like us."

Harry growled in frustration, wrenching himself out of Fenrir's arms successfully at least and turning to lean against the opposite side of the sunken pool. Resting his head on his arms, which were perched on the edge, he kept his back to Fenrir. How had an attempt at getting to know him ended in this row? "I've been a human far longer than I've been a werewolf, you need to remember that before you open your big gob," Harry muttered darkly.

Another of those dreaded silences fell. Then the water swayed, lapping at his flesh as he felt Fenrir move towards him. Two arms caged him in, large hands resting on the edge either side of him. The wolf leant in, resting his forehead against the back of Harry's head. A deep, frustrated sigh disturbed the hair there.

"I think without speaking, you should've noticed by now," Fenrir muttered. "You pissed me off talking about my parents, and then all this crap… Look I don't give a shit if you're ashamed of me, that's fine, since you're stuck with me anyway and I get to keep you no matter what they think. Or am I wrong in thinking that lately you don't seem to mind being stuck with me so much?"

Harry stilled.

"Am I wrong, pet?" Fenrir muttered, his voice husky now. That stubbly mouth caressed the back of his neck.

Harry gave a small, barely noticeable gasp. The smile against his skin told him that the other man had noticed, however. Damn him. Harry sighed in defeat. He was making this about him, going over things Fenrir had already apologised for, things he'd forgiven back when he'd had some insight into the real Fenrir Greyback. What he was having trouble with was how he felt about how easy it had been to forgive them. That wasn't Fenrir's fault, it was only his own.

Biting the inside of his lip he turned his head a fraction to the side, allowing Fenrir to nuzzle into his throat as a sign of accepting his apology. He wasn't really angry with him after all, only himself. _And I'm scared of what Hermione and Ron will say when they see me, _he thought. _Will they think I've abandoned them to shack up with a werewolf? _He winced at that, longing for the moon heat to overcome him so he could forget all of his suffocating troubles for a while.

"I only meant that I understand how you feel," Harry said after some time, going back to what they had originally been discussing. "You know, losing people, watching them die and not being able to do a thing. I wanted you to know…" _To know you're not alone, _he finished in his head, unable to voice that aloud. He steeled himself for his next words. "Will you tell me about that night?"

Fenrir flinched.

There could be no doubt that Fenrir understood which night he meant, Harry thought, judging by that reaction. The night Fenrir Greyback lost everything. "Only if…you know, it'll help," Harry added belatedly, realising how that had sounded. But if he was tied to this man forever he wanted them to know each other better and whereas his, Harry's history was public knowledge, Fenrir Greyback was a mystery. "I don't even know why or how long you were in Azkaban for," he murmured, mostly to himself.

Fenrir pressed his nose harder into the marked side of his throat, inhaling him deeply. "When they attacked the pack," the alpha growled, "I wanted revenge, I was young and strong – I joined _Him _then, Echo, Hemming and Marrok, they followed me like fools right to him. _Tergarletum_. In exchange for my services, he leant me his sources to hunt down some of those responsible. I found them soon enough, laughing it up in a nearly deserted muggle pub. I tortured them, but I enjoyed revenge too much – I fucking loved it, alright? They were all half drunk and screaming blue murder, throwing sloppy hexes at me…."

Turning in the man's arms, Harry waited patiently. He watched Fenrir hasten to disguise the sudden pain that touched his features with bravado.

"But two kids got caught in the crossfire. Apparently anyway – I remember seeing them but I don't remember their-" he glanced at Harry for a moment. "I didn't taste blood that young that night, they must've been hit by some stray spell or something. Or maybe I did kill them, like they say, it's been so many years of hearing all that shit, I'm not sure what's true and what's not anymore." His teeth grated together then, clenching the way Harry's did sometimes.

"Either way, I hesitated and they got me," he continued, his voice lower than before, "It was chaos. The Ministry couldn't exactly announce that I was avenging their murdering half my pack, men, women and children – even the corrupt wizarding world wouldn't have liked that spin on things…"

Harry nodded. "That's why they started the rumours that you stole and ate children," he said, understanding now.

"Probably," Fenrir said bluntly. "One of the tricks _'The Hunt' _used to cover their tracks was to fiddle the Werewolf Registry – can't miss what _legally _never existed, yeah? So they erased all record of any pack before they took it out. My records were already gone by the time they arrested me, so the bloody stupid Wizengamot didn't realise I was a werewolf. Ulric came to me in the holding cell, fucking old twit – he was my parents' beta wolf…"

Harry blinked in surprise at that.

"Oh yeah," Fenrir smirked, the expression not touching his eyes. "Took over while I was off looking for throats to rip out in revenge. He told me what I was to say to the Wizengamot – pretend to be some old tramp that didn't know what day it was. He'd found out what _The Hunt_ had been up to. Apparently they disbanded shortly after I tore their leaders to shreds in a common muggle pub – bit off-putting, that I suppose."

Harry had an image he would never dare try and describe aloud. A young man in pain, traumatised from seeing his family murdered, wallowing in prison, in guilt for the deaths of two young children that he may or may not have been responsible for. It was hard to connect this man to that boy, but he knew that is what it must have been. The picture only grew more vivid the longer he felt Fenrir's pain swell in his chest.

"So," he began hesitantly, when Fenrir had been silent for some time. "They _didn't _arrest you?"

Fenrir snorted. "Not then. Not even when Lupin tried to tell them I was a werewolf – he was the only one who saw through me."

"Remus?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Lupin Senior," Fenrir corrected with a sneer. "Nasty piece of work. Said all werewolves were _'__soulless, evil, deserving of nothing but death_' – they didn't believe him of course, sent me on my way with an apology. _The Hunt_ couldn't interfere with that verdict in case they were exposed. They let me go, but when some old coot made to use a memory charm I took his wand, freed Echo, Hemming and Marrok and disappeared."

"But?" Harry suggested, for he could sense there was something else. Something that, for some reason, Fenrir wanted to avoid telling him. He saw the man's jaw work as he grinded his teeth. "What happened when you were escaping?" What was he hiding?

Those icy blue eyes locked on him then with grim determination. "On the way out, I saw Lupin – _your _Lupin standing there with his old man. Must've been about four, maybe five…" He studied Harry's face as slowly, warily, he proceeded. "He was bruised, weak, crying. We could smell…smell the _indecent _things that had been done to him. His father was standing there in the corner with him, all I could hear was the old bastard's voice saying '_don't tell your mother'_…"

Harry felt something in his gut twist with disgust. "You thought his dad had abused him. That's why you snuck into his bedroom and bit him. You were going to take him with you," Harry murmured, his voice low, almost inaudible. It wasn't a question he had asked, but a statement made. He understood it now and could see it all so painfully clearly.

Fenrir just looked at him.

"H-How…how did you realise it wasn't his dad that abused him?" Harry asked thickly, not sure what else to say. Did Remus know all this? He didn't think so. Why exactly did he think his turning had occurred? Did he think what everyone else did about Fenrir? That he was a child-biting murderer? The thought made him quite sick.

"When I snuck into the room, the boy was even worse than before. Abused, covered in semen and blood and shaking like a leaf," Fenrir grunted, not looking Harry in the eye now. His disgust was evident but so was his self-deprecation, his loathing for the fact that he had made such a fatal mistake. Harry had never seen him look guilty before. Not ever. It was a revelation.

"He was so weak. I bit him, told him it'd make him strong." Fenrir winced then, snarling to himself. "But that's when I noticed, the…the _semen _in him. It didn't smell like Lupin Senior – it was someone else. I'd fucked up and as soon as I realised, _your _Lupin's dad came charging in and drove away the _'__soulless, evil' _werewolf that had infected his son."

Harry remembered Fenrir telling him that after this mistake, the pack had tried to help the Lupins with their son, but that Dumbledore had interfered somehow. He wondered what that meant, but at the same time, didn't want to know. He'd found out enough about Dumbledore lately that he didn't know whether to believe. He grimaced, realising how much of a child he still must be, to want to hide from anything else that might tarnish someone he so respected and cared for. Who cared for him too – he thought at least.

"From then on my name and face were posted across the wizarding world," Fenrir continued, in an attempt at detachment. "It took them a long time but they caught me in the stupid – they put out a fake call posing as a pack that wanted to meet with me and got me that way. They sent me down for a variety of crimes, some that I committed and some they made up. I was there for nearly seven years. I made my escape when Lestrange and the others were liberated from that _place._"

"And Echo and Ulric took care of the pack while you were away?"

Fenrir nodded. Such a long time to suffer alone in the dark at the hands of the dementors, reliving the tragedy of losing everyone. If Fenrir was corrupt, it was easy to see why. Maybe even understandable, maybe. Harry wasn't that self-righteous that he couldn't see that Fenrir was just another being in just as much pain as him, if not more. That he needed someone – maybe even deserved someone. When had he come to care so bloody much about how Fenrir felt?

"How old are you?" he asked, the recent revelations only just making him realise how much older Fenrir must be. Werewolves (the ones that accepted their 'nature' as Fenrir and his pack did) aged far slower than even wizards. Harry had discovered that in his lessons with Amoux and Accalia. Accalia for example, had revealed he was nearly forty years old despite looking as chipper and fresh as a twenty-six year old.

It was unnerving that he had lived with this man as a lover, let him do things to him that he was too embarrassed to even _name _and he didn't even know how old he was! Echo and Marrok were around his age, he assumed, but that gave nothing away. Vilkas seemed to be aging normally enough. _Will my child grow normally? _He wondered distantly.

"I was seventeen when they killed my family and half my pack – that was in 1964," Fenrir said with another broad smirk that didn't touch his eyes. Eyes that were gazing hard into Harry's. So hard it hurt. "Fifty-one, pet."

"Oh." Fenrir looked older than he was, that was for sure, but not that old. He would age slowly now too, he remembered Accalia explaining. It was a disconcerting thought. "Will the baby age slowly too?"

Fenrir always looked so pleased whenever he expressed concern for the cub, it made Harry feel a little guilty for his earlier behaviour. Even if it was understandable, as everyone kept assuring him.

"He will be born small, all werewolves are," Fenrir explained. "Mentally he will develop normally. Physically he will grow faster to catch up until at a year old, he'll be the size of what you would consider a normal human kid. Then he'll continue to age normally until the end of puberty when it'll all slow down."

That was reassuring, Harry thought. He wouldn't be expected to be chasing after a toddler in a few months time. He would have the chance to try and get his head round things a bit more before the baby started to really understand that he, Harry didn't have a bloody clue what to do with himself. He'd have a chance, at least, to grow with little bludger – or at least he hoped he would.

A chance to try and make things right with his _other _father too, before he realised what a pair of bloody idiots they were.

Harry took a deep breath. "And will you tell me about that night?" he asked again. There was only one night in question, the night that started it all. He would only ask once more, he swore to himself. If Fenrir refused this time, he would permit him his privacy. He knew what it was like to be have his painful past prodded and examined after all. Wanting them to know each other better, to understand each other better was not as important as how the other man felt about it. He felt his skin tingle with the slightest flush at that thought. Yes, it was unavoidable. Fenrir's feelings (however well disguised) had become important to him somewhere along the way.

Suddenly, that familiar, coarse, husky voice dragged him back to the present. "I'll tell you," the alpha murmured against his hair, his tone betraying a slither of defeat. One of his huge hands slid down to caress little bludger again, as if reminding himself of the main reason they had to make more of an effort with each other. "But once and only once," he added swiftly, "so you'd better listen good."

_~To Be Continued..._


End file.
